


six degrees of separation

by MaddieContrary



Series: six degrees of separation [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Polar (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, S3 Canon Divergent, Threesome - M/M/M, because that's how i roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieContrary/pseuds/MaddieContrary
Summary: An S3 AU where Will meets Duncan Vizla when he moved to Montana.
Relationships: Will Graham/Duncan Vizla | Black Kaiser, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter/Duncan Vizla | Black Kaiser
Series: six degrees of separation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968124
Comments: 104
Kudos: 409





	1. of dogs and whiskeys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wwwww](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wwwww/gifts).



> Thank you wwwww, who inspired this with their [prompt on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/_w4687/status/1292381770076364800?s=20)
> 
> Now updated with art from [Flyingsnail_art on Tumblr](https://flyingsnail-art.tumblr.com/)! Thank you so much for the lovely birthday gift, I'm still sobbing over it FYI <3

When Will had set out to put some distance away between him and Hannibal after the shitshow that was Hannibal Lecter’s trial, he didn’t expect to find himself coming face-to-face with another man with a perfect likeness to Hannibal’s.

Maybe it was divine retribution for all the things he had done thus far, maybe it was the world’s idea of a cosmic joke, or maybe it was just sheer coincidence. The fact remained that his new neighbor looks like a more rugged version of Hannibal.

The eyepatch and the mustache were somewhat surprising, and those were the only indications that this was indeed not Hannibal Lecter coming to torment him in Montana. Even Hannibal couldn’t teleport himself out of the jail he had imprisoned himself in.

So it seemed that it was just his luck that, in trying to run away from Hannibal, Will has inevitably found himself running headfirst into his doppelganger instead.

They first met at the pet store, and it was only later that Will found out that Duncan Vizla was his neighbor. Will felt his world almost crashing down on him when he first laid eyes on Duncan, nearly hyperventilating at the familiar sight until he realized that the man wasn’t Hannibal.

Duncan had looked nonplussed at Will’s reaction; he merely raised a questioning brow at Will’s pale, stricken look before moving his gaze to Winston and Buster sniffing around his legs. Will had brought only Winston and Buster together with him when he moved to Montana while he gave the rest of his dogs away to their new owners.

Will had to shake himself out of his shock and pulled his dogs away, mumbling an apology to the other man before rushing out of the pet store to calm himself down again.

He wasn’t expecting to see Duncan again.

The man had knocked on Will’s front door several days later, and both of them were surprised to see each other when Will opened the door to his house. Duncan’s truck had broken down nearby, and he had sought Will’s help to see if Will had the required tools to fix the truck until Duncan could get it to the nearest mechanic in the next town. Luckily for Duncan, Will happened to be in a charitable mood and he was itching for something to do with his hands, even if it meant having to spend a few hours with Hannibal’s look-alike.

Will was gratified to find out that Duncan was a man of few words, so they sat in companionable silence as Will looked over the other man’s truck. Will had taken Winston and Buster with him to keep them company, and he could sense Duncan’s initial reluctance to bond with the dogs, though by the end of the next hour it seemed as if all the reservations were gone and Buster was sitting contentedly on Duncan’s lap by the time Will was done with the truck. Duncan was petting Buster absentmindedly while Winston was laid down on the floor next to them.

“You like dogs?” Will asked. It was the first few voluntary words they’d spoken to each other.

Duncan paused in his pettings, eyeing Will curiously. “I think so.”

Will snorted. “You either like them or you don’t.”

Duncan gave a half-hearted shrug. “Never had one long enough to know for sure.”

That gave him pause, and the silence stretched for a few seconds. “Well. If you want to find out, you’re welcome to join us for our evening walks.”

He didn’t know why he extended the offer; the words came out of him before he could stop them, and he found that he didn’t regret the decision a few seconds later when Duncan gave him a gruff, genuine smile.

“I would like that.”

Being with Duncan is easy. The man rarely talks unless he thinks it’s something worthwhile to say, and Will is content to stay silent most of the time. The only time they do talk about more in-depth subjects are during the evenings when whiskeys and stories are exchanged. Sometimes Will walks the dogs and joins Duncan in his cabin. Sometimes Will invites Duncan to the house for some drinks and just some company.

Their talks rarely approach anything serious – mostly they talk of the weather, the dogs, or even the inner workings of engines. Small talks are easier to navigate, and their words dance around each other, neither of them acknowledging the fact that they both have dark pasts that they’d rather not talk about. At least not yet.

It seems both of them are lonely souls in a way. It explains why Duncan seems to accept Will’s offer of tentative friendship, even though both of them seemed like solitary people.

It doesn’t explain why Will keeps inviting Duncan into his home.

Perhaps he knows why, but he refuses to admit to himself that he might miss Hannibal.

Tonight, they’re sharing another round of drinks while Will is seated on the couch in front of Duncan’s fireplace. It’s snowing rather heavily outside, but Will isn’t too worried. His house is only miles away, and he had let the dogs out earlier and locked them back in with enough food until the next morning. He has always ensured that he’s not too inebriated to make the drive back home, but Duncan would probably be amenable to send him back with his own truck if it comes to that.

Will is staring into the fire with a whiskey in hand, and he swirls the glass slowly in his hand as he thinks of nothing at all, the alcohol slowly numbing him tonight.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Startled, Will turns his gaze to Duncan, who’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, his body turned towards Will. He shrugs listlessly.

“Not much,” Will replies after a few minutes, throwing Duncan a curious smile. “Does it look like I need to… unburden myself?”

Duncan gives a little shrug. “You always look world-weary.”

“Yeah, well. The world is a wearying place.”

“It looks as if you take everyone’s burdens on your shoulder.”

Will stiffens, though he forces himself to loosen his rigid posture. He sighs through his nose and takes a sip of the whiskey just to feel the burn in his throat.

“Not a good topic?” Duncan asks after several minutes of silence. The man nurses his own drink while he watches Will silently.

“No, not really.” The words come out as resigned, apologetic somehow. It’s not as if Duncan knows just how true his words are. No sense in letting him in on how empathetic Will really is.

Duncan just nods and keeps his silence as he drinks. When he finishes with his glass, he puts it aside on the side-table and eyes Will warily.

Duncan’s gaze is heavy on him, and Will can sense the words that he’s holding back.

“Just come out and say it,” Will huffs when he couldn’t stand the charged silence any longer. It’s not like him to be flustered by such things – not anymore, not after Hannibal – but he feels warm under his skin. It’s definitely not due to the whiskey.

“There are other outlets to let out your frustrations,” Duncan says easily. He’s watching Will’s reaction carefully, as if trying to gauge Will’s response.

Will surprises him by laughing. “Are you really insinuating what I think you are?”

Duncan gives him a small smile. “If you want.”

Shaking his head, Will finishes the rest of his drink and puts his glass aside as well. He licks his lips and stares at Duncan, both of them silent and assessing.

It’s probably a bad idea. Will knows that, objectively. But then again, he’d thrown away objectivity long ago when he decided to entrap a certain cannibal and found himself entangled instead.

Besides, Duncan is not Hannibal. The man does seem to have his fair share of darkness lurking beneath the surface – somehow, it seems like Will attracts these types of people to him. He ignores what that says about him; probably not too flattering, when he considers it. But Duncan’s darkness is something Will can handle, can understand.

He enjoys Duncan’s company – the man doesn’t expect much from him, and they were happy to exist in their own separate vacuum. Perhaps their enjoyment can extend beyond mere companionship. A companionship of a different sort.

Will finds himself nodding then, his short contemplation coming to an end.

“Show me, then,” he murmurs, his throat working at the smile Duncan throws him.

“Come,” Duncan says without prelude; after all, there is no more pretense as to what will happen once Will has accepted what the other man has offered.

They make their way to the bed, anticipation rising in Will with every step. Now that he’s decided on the course, he finds that he has no reservations left, only a sense of mounting excitement when Duncan pulls him into his sphere.

No words were exchanged as they undress with unhurried, sure hands. Will avoids looking at Duncan’s face, choosing to look at his hands instead as he removes his clothing, his bare skin exposed to the cold night little by little. He has goosebumps by the time he’s bared to Duncan, and only then does he turn his attention to the other man.

Will’s breath hitches at the sight of Duncan, the man stark naked now, the planes of his body highlighted by the warm lights in the cabin. Will eyes him appreciatively – he hasn’t been with many men, but the encounters he has had were pleasant enough. He stands still as Duncan leans in closer, and Will can’t resist running his hands through the thatch of curls on Duncan’s chest, wondering if Hannibal would be similarly built like the other man.

But that’s a dangerous road to go down on.

Duncan seems to sense his change of mood, though he doesn’t say anything as he lifts Will’s chin up with calloused fingers. Fingers which have undoubtedly touched a gun before; a killer’s hand.

The thought seems to arouse him further, and his hands clutch onto Duncan’s shoulders when the man finally kisses him. Duncan’s hands wander down onto his waist, and he slowly maneuvers them both to fall onto the bed in a graceless heap, Duncan resettling them both comfortably before he kisses Will again.

The kisses quickly grow heated as their bodies align hip-to-hip, and Will relishes the feel of Duncan against him, the man’s body enveloping him completely and overwhelming him in the best possible way. He encourages Duncan with loud moans when Duncan takes their erections in his hand before pulling away from the kiss.

There’s no mistaking the desire in Duncan’s eye when he stares down at Will, and he shivers from a mixture of the cold and anticipation.

“I’d like to fuck you,” Duncan murmurs, his eyes watching Will intently.

Will shivers form the words and finds himself nodding almost immediately, which seems to amuse Duncan. “Do it,” he breathes out, uncaring for how affected he sounds.

It’s been a while since he has been with anyone – he didn’t have the best opportunities to be intimate with anyone after Margot, considering all the things that happened… after. Truthfully, he hasn’t felt the desire to be with anyone after Hannibal left him gutted in more ways than one. Maybe it says something about him that he has found someone similar to Hannibal in order to experience that desire again.

At this point in time, he really couldn’t care less what that says about him.

Duncan leaves him briefly to retrieve a lubricant and a pack of condoms from his bedside drawer, and Will feels warm all over when Duncan looks down at him with an appreciative gaze. Duncan’s gaze wanders all over Will as he slathers his fingers with the lube before he moves them to Will’s hole.

Trembling at the cold touch, Will lets his head fall back onto the pillows beneath him and stares sightlessly at the ceiling. His legs twitch occasionally as he adjusts to the feeling of being penetrated – he hasn’t done this in a while either, not since his college years, and those were mostly drunken experimentations. He doesn’t remember much from those encounters, so he lets himself feel the sensations that are reawakening in him at Duncan’s persistent touches.

He almost jumps off the bed when Duncan presses his fingers against that sensitive spot in him, and it pulls a strangled gasp out of him. Will directs his gaze back to Duncan just as the other man brings his other hand to the scar on Will’s stomach.

Will swallows around the lump in his throat when Duncan caresses the scar and his prostate in turn, and it’s all he can do not to choke on his words when Duncan kisses the scar.

“Who gave this to you?”

The words were soft but audible in the relative silence of the room, and Will swallows a second time, avoiding Duncan’s probing gaze for a few seconds to compose himself.

The answer is too complicated, and Will could hardly name the emotions percolating inside him at the thought of Hannibal. There’s too much baggage surrounding their particular history that he hardly knows where to begin. He doesn’t want to give Duncan this, not yet at least.

“Does it matter?” Will whispers, staring at Duncan.

Duncan mulls over his answer and seems to relent when he senses that he won’t get any straight answer out of Will anytime soon. He removes his hands and picks up the condom, all while looking at Will. “It doesn’t matter to me, if it’s nothing to you.”

Will relaxes at that, though he couldn’t help reaching his hand out to Duncan, stopping the man in his motion as he readies to tear off the condom wrapper.

Ignoring the heat on his face, he mutters, “Don’t. I—I’m clean last time I was tested and… I haven’t been with anyone since. I—I want to feel it.”

Duncan looks amused and pleased at that, and he tosses the wrapper aside carelessly and prowls over Will again, bringing their bodies flushed together as he kisses Will.

“Good,” Duncan says when he pulls away to line himself up. “So am I.”

No more words are exchanged, then, not when Will finally feels himself being stretched open as Duncan slowly fills him. Will finds himself breathless when Duncan starts thrusting into him, slowly at first, though he quickly picks up the pace when Will pulls Duncan closer, his arms entwined around Duncan’s shoulders.

He revels in the almost punishing thrusts as he hides his face in the crook of Duncan’s neck, closing his eyes against the onslaught of sensations. Duncan clearly knows what he’s doing – it feels good, and he rides the high that comes with every thrust to his prostate, moaning as Duncan fucks him roughly.

Wrapping his arms and legs around Duncan, Will encourages the man to go deeper, rougher with him, almost begging for it. He’s only slightly embarrassed at the desperate sounds he makes, but it’s so easy to lose himself to pleasure by closing his eyes and letting himself feel it. Will is only tethered to the present by the heavy weight of Duncan’s warm and sweaty body undulating against him. His mind is blissfully empty of coherent thoughts for once.

“Will.”

He comes back to himself at Duncan’s voice, and it’s all he can do to try and focus on the man above him as he pulls away slightly to look at Will fully. Will resists the urge to look away – he’s so aroused that he doesn’t even think about any possible repercussions of fucking with someone who reminds him of Hannibal in more ways than one.

Will pushes thoughts of Hannibal aside, reaching out to Duncan and pulling him in for another kiss. When they pull apart, Will is finally ready to let go of every compromised feeling he has and he grins up at Duncan.

“Thought you were supposed to fuck me?”

The words sound crude even to him, and he can’t quite fight the warm blush flooding his face at the chuckle Duncan lets out at that.

“So eager all of a sudden?”

“Christ,” Will huffs, laughing a little despite himself. “Shut up and fuck me, old man.”

Duncan’s eyes flash dangerously at that, and Will feels a thrill run up his spine at the merciless look Duncan throws him.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Duncan growls before he practically folds Will’s body in half and picks up the pace once again.

“Fuck,” Will hisses, groaning with pleasure at the onslaught of sensations slamming into him. He didn’t doubt that Duncan would be a good lay – he had suspected it, judging by the way the man carried himself – but this goes beyond his imaginations. Duncan _is_ a veritable sex god by Will’s limited standards, and he moans as much.

“Fuck—so good,” Will whimpers. “Oh god, _there_.”

With Duncan’s body enveloping him and caging him against the bed beneath them, Will closes his eyes again and he lets himself go. The room echoes with the sounds of their joining, the slap of skin against skin, and their resulting moans and groans the only sounds Will can hear.

When Duncan slips a hand in between their bodies to pump Will’s cock in tandem with his thrusts, Will’s moans grow louder. He’s barely aware of himself as he urges Duncan on, hissing out encouragement and expletives in turns as he’s fucked within an inch of his life. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge of his release, and he opens his eyes in a daze and finds himself coming face-to-face with Hannibal looking down at him.

Will comes with a cry then, Hannibal’s name at the tip of his tongue, his vision obscured once again as he shuts his eyes tight, willing the vision of Hannibal away even as his body clenches around the other man on top of him. He can hear Duncan grunting in exertion and satisfaction a few seconds later when Will feels his hips stuttering against him and Duncan finally releases himself inside Will.

He huffs slightly when Duncan falls on top of him, their sweaty skin rubbing against one another as they fight to catch their breath. Duncan finally pulls away minutes later, muttering something about cleaning up before he disappears to the bathroom. When he returns, he brings a warm, damp towel with him to the bed.

Will lets Duncan do all the work to clean him up, his limbs still sore and heavy in his post-orgasm bliss. When Duncan pulls the covers over both of them and settles himself next to Will, he doesn’t even try to hide his surprise.

“Am I staying?” Will asks, smiling a little.

Duncan pauses in his bid to settle himself into sleep and looks over at Will. “If you’d like,” he says cautiously. “I thought—”

“No, no—” Will cuts himself off, smiling a little. “I didn’t mean—never mind. I’d like to stay.”

Duncan returns his smile softly and leans over to give Will a chaste kiss. “Good night, Will.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness, Will can only blink for several moments before he swallows down his feelings and lets himself fall asleep.

Waking up the next morning to another warm body next to his is only slightly surprising, and when Will blinks his eyes open he sees that Duncan is still asleep, his face almost deceptively gentle.

He uses the opportunity to let his eyes linger over Duncan’s face, mapping out his features and somehow unable to make himself tear away from the marking the differences between Duncan and Hannibal. He knows there’s no use in trying to push Hannibal away from his mind, more so now after his own subconscious decided to replace Duncan’s face with Hannibal’s on the verge of his orgasm last night. He can’t even bring himself to feel guilty over that. Maybe this is part of his acceptance stage – fuck a lookalike of your so-called ex so that he can deal with his feelings in a healthier manner. Or maybe that was supposed to be the denial stage.

Will senses the change in Duncan’s breathing pattern soon enough, and he smiles at the other man when Duncan’s eyes open instantly, a surprising alertness behind his eyes despite him being asleep mere seconds ago.

“Morning,” he drawls.

Duncan grunts something that may have been a greeting, and it amuses Will that the man seems to be one of those people who are just cranky in the morning. He contents himself with watching the other man as Duncan rises from the bed to make his way to the bathroom down the corridor.

Once Duncan is out of sight, Will looks around the cabin and takes in the surroundings. It’s the first time he’s seen it in the day, since he only comes around here at night for dinner or a drink. Duncan’s house is pretty bare in furnishings though it has a rustic charm to it, and it reminds him a little bit of his own house in Wolf Trap – it’s cozy and lived-in, and though there aren’t a lot of personal touches to the furnishing, the little bits that he can pick out are telling.

He’s pulled out of his reverie when Duncan reemerges, fully clothed and seemingly ready to face the day. He smiles when he sees Duncan eyeing him appreciatively; he’s not one to preen, but he knows objectively that people find him attractive, and it’s nice to feel wanted by someone other than a cannibal sometimes.

“Like what you see?” Will teases, grinning.

Duncan merely smiles at that, though his eyes darkened considerably. “Breakfast?” he asks instead.

Will shrugs, settling back when Duncan doesn’t rise to the challenge. “I could eat.”

Duncan nods and then gestures to the bathroom. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” The words sound a bit awkward coming from him, and it looks as if Duncan knew it too judging by his expression.

Will ignores it for the moment and rises up from the bed, picking up his discarded clothes as he makes his way to the bathroom. He couldn’t help the way his hips swing a little bit more obvious when he feels Duncan’s gaze following him all the way until he disappears from view. He thinks of nothing while he takes his shower – his mind is blissfully empty.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, and the whole morning feels a little surreal in the relative silence. Will’s gaze is fixed on the lake outside of Duncan’s cabin, and his mind wanders to his dogs as he chews the sausages and scrambled eggs Duncan has cooked for him. The breakfast and the way they are seated at Duncan’s small dining table reminds him of that breakfast in a motel in Minnesota, years and years ago. He could still taste the sausage Hannibal had fed him then.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Will turns his gaze on Duncan instead and realizes that Duncan has been silently observing him, possibly this whole time. He throws the man a soft smile and continues with his breakfast before he begins his questions.

“Did you used to have a dog?”

Duncan looks mildly surprised at the question but he answers readily. “Yes. Didn’t last long.”

Will’s eyebrow quirks up at the phrasing. “Any reason why?”

The other man seems to be struggling to come up with a response for some reason. “Dogs… don’t suit my lifestyle.”

Will hums and takes a few more bites of his breakfast. “Your lifestyle has something to do with the fact that you sleep with a silencer nearby?”

Duncan smiles at that. Maybe it has something to do with Will’s nonchalant tone, but he seems only mildly surprised but entirely pleased with Will’s observation. “Something like that. It’s best to be prepared.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Will says, shrugging.

“You look like someone who has that same ingrained habit,” Duncan observes.

Will is finished with his breakfast, so he leans back in his chair and stares at Duncan for several minutes, wondering just how much he can divulge in this man without regretting it in the years to come. He’d already been courted and seduced by one serial killer to know that Duncan is just another flavor of that, but Duncan feels… safe. For now. He doesn’t seem to kill for the sake of killing, and his violence is more likely to be a result of his survival instincts.

Hell, he’s already slept with the man – doesn’t seem to make sense to hold back right now.

“Used to work for the FBI,” Will says, keeping his own face blank as he searches for cues from Duncan’s expressions. “I profiled serial killers for them. Caught a few. One of the cases turned out to be too… personal. I turned in my badge and moved here.”

Duncan’s face settles in understanding at Will’s words, and he relaxes minutely. He doesn’t ask Will for more, and Will is thankful for it.

“Profiling,” Duncan scoffs, shaking his head. “I thought it was just a case of exceptional observation skills.”

Will smirks. “I empathize with others too much. It’s mostly instinctive by now, but it really is just based on the evidence that people already give me themselves. Your house is in the middle of the lake and almost inaccessible to those who aren’t familiar with the area. You have a dog bed near the fireplace and there’s some dog fur at the couches but no dog. You’re always on high alert, as if you’re anticipating any kind of attack at any time; you’re still doing it right now even when I call you out on it. You’ve killed a lot of people in the past, and you don’t regret it, at least not much, but you don’t revel in it either. Your kills are efficient and oddly merciful. You’d probably kill me if you think I pose any threat to you, and you’re still making up your mind on the possibility of that threat.”

Duncan does something Will doesn’t expect then: he _laughs_.

The laughter was short-lived, but Duncan still seems amused as he looks at Will in a new light, a new kind of understanding passing between them then.

“You’re a real piece of work,” Duncan says, his tone admiring.

Will shrugs and grins a little wider. “Takes one to know one.” He takes a sip of the cooled coffee and throws Duncan another smile. “I can teach you how to get rid of that dog fur by the way.”

The next bark of laughter is reward enough.

It’s easy to fall into some sort of arrangement with Duncan after that – what Will has with Duncan isn’t really a relationship per se, they’re more like “friends with benefits” at the end of the day even though Will loathes the use of those words.

Will usually stays over at Duncan’s cabin most nights after sex, as Duncan seems reluctant to stay at Will’s for some reason. He’s not too bothered, except for a few times when he found himself trapped in the cabin for a day longer than intended when they were both snowed in. He was mostly worried about the dogs when that happened, but Winston and Buster were well-trained and Will always leaves more food behind every night just in case.

Duncan finally confides in Will weeks later that the reason he doesn’t have pets was because he would inevitably kill them by accident, the small whimpers and movements from the animal triggering his survival instinct and getting them killed in the end.

He had deduced as much, truth be told, from the way the other man sometimes woke up almost violently in the middle of the night. At times Will would find himself being straddled by Duncan, and at other times Duncan’s hands almost took hold at Will’s throat before Duncan seemed to come back to himself and apologized for it.

As someone who had been violently gutted by one of the more infamous serial killers in the last few decades, Will wasn’t surprised to find himself forgiving of these things.

However, Will didn’t talk to Duncan for days after his confession on why he no longer has dogs. He stayed away and tried to control his anger at the thought of someone harming Winston and Buster, and it took several more days for him to accept Duncan’s company again after that.

Because even with that revelation, Will can’t quite deny Duncan’s comfortable presence by his side. He had been trying to escape the ghost of his past and it had driven him to Duncan instead by some twist of fate. Duncan is gruff yet warm; he’s a man with few words but his words are almost always kind (Will finds it amusing that Duncan gets invited to talk at some pre-school at times); he likes scotch and whiskey and Will’s dogs.

He’s the exact opposite of Hannibal Lecter, and Will finds some comfort in that.


	2. a shared madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was only supposed to be 2 chapters but once again it has grown beyond me, send help

Life goes on for Will over the years, as life inevitably does. Things are quiet for the most part – peaceful even – and he passes most of his days in a state of contentment, much to his surprise.

He fixes motors for a living as a side gig, and most of his clients come from Duncan’s recommendations. Truthfully he doesn’t need the work, what with the compensation he received from the FBI (or from Kade Prurnell, more specifically) – supposedly it was for the role he played in “capturing” Hannibal, but Will suspected it’s really to make him keep his mouth shut about Hannibal’s case. As if he’s the type of person who will run to the likes of Freddie Lounds for some extra money.

In any case, his life is much simpler in Montana when there are no outside influences actively working against him. He reads and fishes in his spare time (he has a lot of that now), he keeps up with the news just enough to be informed, he goes out to town every few days for some necessities, he takes his dogs out for walks, and he goes to see Duncan often.

They fuck – a lot. For someone who hasn’t had a longtime partner in almost decades, it takes surprisingly little to adjust to life with Duncan in it. They still live their respective lives separately though they spend a lot of time together more often than not. They never talked about moving in, both of them happy with their current arrangement and understanding of each other’s need for privacy.

(Will makes it a point to not want to know too many details of Duncan’s “retirement” life because sometimes ignorance really is bliss and he has made his choice in this.)

It’s a peaceful sort of life, and he finds himself settling in after almost three years of little to no news of Hannibal.

He should’ve known that it’s too early to let his guards down.

When Jack comes knocking at his door, Will knows the smartest thing he can do is to slam the door in his face.

Unfortunately for him, he also knows himself better than anyone else; once there’s a crack in his forts, it’s only a matter of time until it widens and the shadows come creeping in. At least if he does this knowingly, he’ll be better prepared for whatever outcomes there may be. At least that’s what he tells himself.

One way or another, he knows that answering Jack’s requests means accepting Hannibal into his life once more.

When Jack goes back to Baltimore after their short conversation – smug in the knowledge that Will won’t be able to stay away from this Tooth Fairy case – Will finally breaks down and opens a bottle of whiskey and the letters he’s received from Hannibal for the past three years. Sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace, he pours himself three fingers of whiskey and prepares himself.

The letters had remained unopened, most of them still in their pristine condition, considering Will had shoved them unceremoniously into an unused drawer as soon as he received them.

He thumbs through the letters now, pondering. As absurd as it seems, he thinks the act of opening the seal to these letters would set him on an inevitable path. There’s a mounting excitement at the thought of delving back into Hannibal’s sphere once again – Hannibal’s attention and view of the world are intoxicating. It would be so easy to let himself be seduced into that sort of mindset again, though he knows there will be a high price to pay at the end of the day. A bargain with the devil, as it were.

Sighing, Will rips the latest letter open first. Jack had brought it with him, along with the newspaper’s clippings of the last few Tooth Fairy killings. He doesn’t know what he expected, but the letter reads more as a courtesy call more than anything. A warning against accepting Jack’s offer lest he finds himself in Jack’s clutches once more.

Will snorts as he takes a sip of his drink. Jack is the least of his worries these days.

He opens the rest of the letters almost carelessly, reading them one by one by the fireplace until his eyes are straining. The letters are short and often infuriating. Infuriating because of the familiarity of Hannibal’s words; he’s writing to Will as if he’s continuing their conversations together, and in his mind palace, he probably was. Will wonders if that’s how Hannibal keeps himself entertained for the last three years he’s spent in the BSHCI. The thought twists something in his gut, something akin to guilt. 

Leaning back on his couch, he stares into the fire and takes several sips of his whiskey. He doesn’t even register the burn of the drink, not now that his mind is a jumbled mix of thoughts and emotions. Things that should’ve been left buried long ago. But then again, left alone the thoughts and feelings would fester and grow into something darker.

He knows long ago that he wouldn’t be able to escape Hannibal so easily.

It seems the time has come for him to push his denial aside. 

For now, he can’t bring himself to think about it for too long. Instead of burning the letters in the fireplace, he picks up his phone and calls Duncan. The man answers after a few rings.

“Can I come over tonight?”

Will moans in pleasure at the way Duncan’s cock fills him as he rides the man. Judging by the way Duncan’s hands are gripping Will’s hips, it seems that his efforts are appreciated.

He loses himself in the sensations, his hands wandering on Duncan’s furry chest, grasping it when Duncan’s cock brushes against his prostate. Duncan grunts in satisfaction at the sounds Will is making and he fucks into Will shallowly, aiming his thrusts at Will’s prostate again and again. Feeling himself coming closer to the edge of his release, Will leans down and captures Duncan’s mouth in a desperate kiss. He comes at a particularly rough thrust, his release spilling in between their sweaty bodies.

Lost in the haze of his orgasm, Will can only whimper when he feels himself being handled and pushed onto his back before Duncan fucks into him again. He writhes against Duncan, whimpering from the oversensitivity as the other man slams into him mercilessly, using Will’s body to seek his release. When Duncan finally comes inside him, Will gasps in relief and satisfaction, his mind blissfully empty.

They lay beside each other for several minutes, catching their breaths. Duncan finally exhales and kisses Will’s throat before pulling away and getting up from the bed to begin their clean-up, as was his usual routine. Will is used to it by now, and he likes how Duncan wordlessly does it for him since he usually feels too boneless to function.

With the clean-up done, Duncan will always resettle himself next to Will, and they will find solace in each other’s warmth. Tonight, Will finds himself burying his face in the crook of Duncan’s neck, humming contentedly when Duncan shifts closer to him in encouragement. 

“Something happened?” Duncan asks after several minutes of silence.

Will sighs, his eyes falling closed at the question. “I need to go back to Baltimore.”

He can feel Duncan stiffening against him with how closely entwined they are, and he presses himself closer to Duncan in reassurance.

“Jack needs me to look into the Tooth Fairy killer.” Much as he tries to gauge Duncan’s reaction, the man doesn’t give anything away. “I might need to go and meet Hannibal again.”

Grunting softly, Duncan lets out a sigh of his own before he wraps his arm around Will. “Why are you going back to these people when you clearly don’t want to?”

Will mulls over the question, though he can feel himself growing drowsier by the moment even as he considers his answer. “A part of me will always want to return,” he murmurs eventually.

He doesn’t need to specify just who it is he wants to return to. Duncan knows, judging by the way the man is gripping him tightly at the confession. They’ve been together for close to three years now, and Will has had time to explain his… intimate connection with Hannibal before the man was put behind bars.

With Duncan lost in his thoughts and no other response forthcoming, Will lets himself fall into sleep with the feeling of Duncan’s body enveloping him.

Duncan doesn’t say much when they wake up the next day, and Will doesn’t bring the subject of Hannibal and Jack up again. Duncan knows there’s no stopping him when he’s put his mind to something, and it’s one of the things that Will likes about him. The man knows where Will’s boundaries lay, and Will is constantly amazed at how respectful Duncan is about those boundaries.

They make their plans to stay in touch while Will is in Baltimore, and Duncan promises to keep an eye on Will’s pack while he’s away (the pack has grown to six dogs during the last three years, to no one’s surprise). Will is planning to send his dogs to a dog sitter in town, though he’d feel better if he knows Duncan will be coming over to take them out for walks once in a while. He doesn’t exactly know how long he would be away, after all. It’s good for the dogs to see a familiar face while Will’s not around.

(He still doesn’t trust Duncan not to kill his dogs if he lets Duncan care for them. Duncan looks unsurprised at the decision.)

Will doesn’t exactly give Duncan a goodbye kiss, but it was as close a thing to it as he can make it. He doesn’t think of it as a goodbye after all, but there’s another part of him that wonders if he’s just lying to himself.

There’s a sense of trepidation coursing through Will as he steps in slowly over the threshold of the Baltimore State’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The BSHCI had been a source of nightmares for him months after he was released from his incarceration, and the fact that he’s going in there voluntarily now to meet someone he’s rejected probably says something about him.

When Will finally sees Hannibal Lecter after three years of separation, it inexplicably feels like coming home.

He tracks the way Hannibal’s attention is immediately drawn to his presence by the way the man reacts. Hannibal’s head shifts almost imperceptibly and his posture straightens before he speaks.

“That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court,” Hannibal says as he turns to face Will, his mouth already widening into a small smile, happy at the thought that Will has come to see him at last. “Hello, Will.”

“Hello… Hannibal,” Will mutters, rolling Hannibal’s name on his tongue.

Hannibal’s pleased smile widens at the sound of his name, and he steps closer to the glass separating them. “Did you get my note?”

“I did,” Will confirms, staring at the man who had been a fixture in his life for the last several years even when he’s locked away, wondering how he had ever thought he wouldn’t ever return to Hannibal eventually. “Thank you.” His tone remains polite and placid, even as his mind is in turmoil at all the buried feelings emerging to the surface.

“Did you read my letters? Or did you burn them?”

“I read them. And then I burned them.”

Will thinks if it were possible for Hannibal’s smile to grow wider, it would have.

“And you came,” Hannibal observes, looking like the cat that got the canary. “I’m glad. My visitors have all been dull so far. Banal psychiatrists and grasping second-raters. Frederick is rare in the sense that he fulfills both criteria.”

Will takes in Hannibal’s appearance as he speaks. The man looks as if he’s in excellent humor, delighted at the fact that he finally gets to see Will crawling back to him after years of silence. His hair is greyer, and there’s a noticeable pouch of fat at his belly which Will finds endearing, much to his horror. Even with the prison jumpsuit on, Hannibal still holds himself regally, even as he’s confined to a space that is much too small to contain his personality.

Prison life seems to suit Hannibal more than it did Will.

But then again, Hannibal’s “prison” looks like a much better experience than Will’s incarceration. He can’t even bring himself to feel anger at that. He’s had a life outside of prison for the last three years, after all.

“I want you to help me,” Will says without preamble.

Hannibal tilts his head. “Yes, I thought so. There wouldn’t have been any reason for you to appear before me otherwise, after years of silence.”

Will sees it then – Hannibal’s nostrils flaring as he inhales intently, his eyes roaming over Will. The other man’s eyes narrow at what he finds.

“Your hands are rough; have you stuck through manual labor all this while? I smell dogs, pine, and oil beneath that shaving lotion...” Hannibal’s brow creases as his voice trails off. “A lingering smell of cigarettes and gunpowder. What have you been up to, Will?”

Will smirks. “You tell me. You’ve probably tried to keep tabs on me when I didn’t come running to you.” No doubt Hannibal has his ways to find out what Will has been up to. 

He wonders what Hannibal has heard, then, based on the slight surprise on his face. Did Hannibal think Will has been living out a bachelor’s life out in Montana? He had gotten used to the strong smell of Duncan’s favored brand of cigarettes that he’d paid no mind to it when his winter jackets came off invariably smelling of it sometimes. No matter, Will decides; it gives Hannibal something to be curious about.

Hannibal’s eyes are still suspicious, and he doesn’t react to Will’s provocation. The silence grows between them as they stare at each other through the glass, and Will wonders why he’s here.

_ Right, the case _ , Will thinks. Probably shouldn’t have antagonized the man when he’s here to ostensibly curry for his favor.

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo,” Will continues, regaining his composure. “I’m sure you’ve read about the cases.”

“Yes, I’ve been ‘keeping my tabs’ on them, as you say,” Hannibal says, his smile softly mocking. “You want to know how he’s choosing the families.”

Will gestures at the case files he’s brought with him. “Thought you might have some ideas.”

Hannibal’s gaze burns into him, his mind still puzzling over the changes he can sense in Will. He must be stewing in the knowledge that he doesn’t quite know why. “You just came here to look at me,” Hannibal accuses softly. “Came to get the old scent again. Why don’t you just smell yourself?”

His jaw works with the effort of biting back his words, and he settles on a chastise instead. “I expected more of you,  _ doctor _ . That routine is old hat.”

“Whereas you are a changed man,” Hannibal replies smoothly, “or so you’d like to think.”

A charged silence descends between them. Will stares at Hannibal wordlessly, neither confirming nor denying his statement.

“Let me have the file,” Hannibal finally says, as if he’s come to a decision. “An hour, and then we can discuss it like old times.”

Will lets out a breath he hasn’t realized he’d been holding. Nodding, he walks over to push Jack’s files through the document tray, and he looks Hannibal in the eye when he says thank you.

“Family values have declined in the past century, but we still help our families when we can,” Hannibal says warmly. “You’re family, Will.”

Will can’t quite suppress the full-body shudder that rises out of him. He knows that Hannibal means those words, and he can’t shake the feeling that this is one of those pivotal moments that would shape the rest of his life.

Somehow, he can’t make himself turn back.

Once he’s back in Hannibal’s orbit, it’s easy to fall into their old routine. Will still tries to shield himself from Hannibal’s probings because he’s not a complete idiot. He knows Hannibal as well as he does himself; there will always be a part of Hannibal that would seek to manipulate him, prod him to see Will’s reaction or lack thereof.

Talking to Hannibal requires several levels of thinking. Every word has meaning, and the weight of those meanings are sometimes only discovered after the fact. It’s exhausting. It reminds Will of the times when he had to delve into and mirror Hannibal’s psyche back when he and Jack were still trying to entrap the cannibal.

Aside from dealing with Hannibal, he also has to deal with Alana and Jack. Both of them seem to be distrustful of him still, and he doesn’t blame them.

It’s little wonder that he’s always thoroughly wiped out by the time he returns to the motel he’s staying at for the next foreseeable weeks. He misses his dogs, and he misses Duncan.

He calls Duncan, often. They talk for an hour or so every other night, just so Will can hear a friendly voice on the other end of the line. Sometimes, the dogs would be there if Will calls Duncan in the early evenings. It’s clear that Duncan misses Will just as much if his willingness to take the pack for an evening run is any indication.

“How’s the operation going?” Duncan asks him on one such day.

Will sighs. “Ran into  _ Lounds _ .”

Duncan chuckles at the venom in Will’s tone. “That bad?”

“You should be glad you never had to deal with her,” Will mutters darkly, staring at the ceiling above him while he imagines Duncan watching over Will’s pack of dogs at his lake house. “She’s definitely something to be reckoned with.”

“And here I thought that the doctor was your biggest worry.”

Another put-upon sigh. “Hannibal, I can handle. There’s no dealing with someone like Freddie.”

There’s a long pause where the dogs’ barks drew Duncan’s attention to them for several minutes, and Will listens to their one-sided conversation with a smile on his face. He wishes he was there in Montana instead of this motel room.

“You’re doing okay?” Duncan asks when he’s back on the phone.

“For lack of a better word,” Will says listlessly, still staring at the stained ceiling above him. “I feel… stretched.”

Duncan hums in commiseration. “You know what to do if you ever need my help.”

“I’m not going to ask you to kill Freddie,” Will laughs. “As tempting as that sounds.”

“While I  _ could _ do that,” Duncan replies, “that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?”

“You know the oldest trick in the world to relieve some stress.”

Will laughs again. “You telling me to get laid?” he teases. “Maybe I should go out and find someone to help me out tonight.”

His inner beast purrs at the possessive growl Duncan lets out at that. While the definition of their relationship is still murky at best, he also knows that Duncan hasn’t branched out with anyone else once Will came into his life. It’s comforting and slightly disturbing to know that he’s sort of in a relationship with a retired assassin.

“You can use your own hands,” Duncan reminds him.

“Phone sex and masturbation?” Will scoffs. “Really?”

“If it’d help.”

Will almost says yes because apparently, he  _ is _ that lonely. He stops himself, at least for the moment, and sighs.

“I suppose that’s a no.”

“Not looking for that sort of release,” Will admits. “If you were here, though…”

He hears Duncan huffing on the other line. “Don’t tempt me.”

Will finds himself grinning despite himself. “If I do touch myself, I’ll be thinking of you.”

It’s Duncan’s turn to give a long-suffering sigh. “You are a menace.”

He laughs in satisfaction. “I know,” he says fondly. “Talk to you later?”

“Whenever,” Duncan promises.

They say their goodbyes (the dogs chiming in with their chorus of goodbyes when they hear Will’s voice over the phone) and Will hangs up, buzzing with restless energy.

He decides to make a call on a certain psychiatrist tomorrow.

Bedelia du Maurier remains an enigma to Will.

How did she escape Hannibal unscathed while Will is covered in scars?

Finding her in Italy had been a slap to the face. When he first heard that Bedelia was sighted with Hannibal, he’d had thought that she was there as a hostage. Seeing her painting herself as an innocent bystander while she was practically dripping in Hannibal’s opulence gave him a bitter taste in the mouth.

Seeing her in a lecture hall years later while she talks about how she was completely taken in by Hannibal brings up all these emotions again. It doesn’t stop him from making an appointment with her, however.

He needs someone who can give him some perspective because his insights are failing him when it comes to Hannibal. He’s too involved, and there’s too much history between them for him to see things objectively. He thinks it’s finally the right time for him to seek out Bedelia, who’s the only other person who knows Hannibal as well as he does, as much as it pains Will to admit it.

So that’s how Bedelia receives the dubious honor of playing his psychiatrist since his previous one is currently indisposed in jail.

Bedelia’s insights on Hannibal are revealing – after all, Will has never had the chance to be with him “behind the veil”, as Bedelia so smugly reminded him. Bedelia’s smugness is worth putting up with in exchange for the information he seeks out. He quite enjoys their verbal volleys; she’s an admirable woman, and he can see why Hannibal is so fascinated with her.

It doesn’t mean he likes her any better, though.

The next time he sees Hannibal, he’s trying to lure out any clues Hannibal might have as to the identity of this “Tooth Fairy” killer. Hannibal seems hellbent on returning to their “quid pro quo” ways, always needling Will for more information of his views on the killer and sometimes his personal life, trying to find a weak point in his forts as he typically does.

Will is so used to Hannibal’s attempts to knock over his barriers that he navigates the man’s conversations with forbearance. He’d almost forgotten how exhausting it could get when they’re playing games with each other in this way, trying to avoid one landmine after another. He doesn’t miss this part of their relationship; the games they play in the dark can only end in tears, or with someone else dying on a kitchen floor. 

Will grits his teeth and bares it as much as he can. The quicker he finds this killer, the sooner he can get back to his life in Montana. 

Hannibal seems to be as curious as ever about what he has been doing for the past three years, though Will has been reluctant to share much. Duncan remains an unspoken secret between them. 

He knows that Hannibal can be patient, however, when it comes to waiting for the perfect moment to strike. 

He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him when he gets a call in the early morning after the night of the full moon, Duncan’s gruff breathing loud in his ears. 

Will’s blood runs cold as he listens to Duncan’s explanation of his predicament through labored breathing—that he's been shot while he was trying to get away from Francis Dolarhyde, who seemed to have come for Will’s dogs for some reason (and Will has no doubt that the “reason” has to do with Hannibal Lecter) and found Duncan instead. It’s almost a miracle how Duncan managed to get away with all of Will’s dogs in tow since he wasn’t exactly equipped with weaponry while he was dog-sitting.

“Why were you even at my house with the dogs?” Will hisses. 

“I missed you,” Duncan answers simply, and that manages to shut Will up. 

“He was going to hurt the dogs while they’re at the dog sitters’,” Will realizes, seething. “He always kills the pets first. You took them out?” 

“Took them for an evening run around your house and they ran into some, ah, mess,” Duncan replies, grunting as he seems to be doing something in the background. “Was going to”—grunt—“send them back the next morning.” 

“So he saw you with my dogs and decided to take you out too,” Will surmises, sighing into the palm of his hand.

Duncan is sequestered away in one of his hideouts now, while Will’s dogs have been deposited back to the dog sitters’ where they were given strict instructions not to let the dogs out of their sight unless Will himself appears to take them. 

While Will is grateful for Duncan’s dedication in keeping his dogs safe, he’s also somewhat agitated at the thought that Duncan doesn’t seem to have the same sense of preservation for himself. 

“Where are you now?” he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to show his irritation. “You’re sure the Dragon’s gone?”

“I can’t disclose that,” Duncan replies, his voice sounding strained. “And I’ve got it under control, Will. I’ve faced worse.”

Sighing, Will rubs his face with his hands as he considers his options. There aren’t that many that he can see, truthfully; they have both been fiercely independent even when they were together, so he can hardly fault the man for not wanting to tell him more right now.

“At least tell me you’ll be safe for the next few days,” he pleads. 

“I’ve got it under control,” Duncan repeats, his voice gruff. “I’ll go for medical treatment if there’s an infection, but otherwise I’m fine.” 

Will lets out another long sigh, shaking his head a little at what his life had become. “Fuck. I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to get caught in the crossfire.” 

“Not your fault,” Duncan sighs. “Though I can't say the same for that ex of yours.” 

“He’s not even my— you know what, never mind. Please tell me you’re just gonna lay low for a couple of days?” 

“I’ll try my best,” comes Duncan’s dry response. “Can’t go anywhere until the wound heals somewhat now that I’ve stitched it up.”

“Okay,” Will whispers. “I— I think I need to end this, soon.”

He hears Duncan sighing as well. “I see.”

“Yeah. So I need you to lay low until… well, until we can end this together.”

“Alright, Will. I know what to do. Just… don’t go biting more off than you can chew. Stay safe.”

“You too,” Will says softly before hanging up. He sighs morosely, thinking of what he has to do now.  _ Just another day in the life of Will Graham _ , he thinks wryly.

He lets his fury shine through when he steps into Hannibal’s cell, and for once he’s not putting on a show. 

“This is a new low, even from you,  _ Doctor _ ,” Will spits out as soon as he comes face-to-face with Hannibal. He wishes he could punch the smug smile off of Hannibal’s face. 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal hums, polite as ever, clearly delighted at the turn of events. “I wasn’t sure what to expect when I heard that the Dragon had set his sights on your family of canines, but it seems that you have been keeping more secrets in Montana.” 

Will shakes his head in disgust. “Yes, I wonder why the Dragon decided to ‘set his sights’ on me,” he growls. “Just couldn’t resist poking around, could you?” 

“I have done nothing,” Hannibal says, tilting his head. “ _ You _ were the one who failed to catch the Dragon, and in so doing, you’ve endangered other families while you falter with yourself.”

“Don’t try to pin this on me,” Will snarls. “It was your tip-off to the Dragon that led him to kill off my dogs, and to what end?” 

“It seems to me that you would be better off trying to find the killer rather than berate me for my sins, Will,” Hannibal says calmly, his hands held behind his back, his eyes boring into Will’s. “After all, I have been paying my penance here for the last three years while you have shut yourself off from the world while painting yourself the victim of your psyche when we know that’s far from the truth, don’t we.”

The pointed words are enough to make Will realize that Hannibal is more affected than he wants to admit. 

_ He didn’t like knowing about Duncan at all _ .  _ Good _ , Will thinks with some measure of satisfaction as he stares the man before him. It’s hard to think of Hannibal in the terms of “jilted lover”, but it seems that that is how he’s framing himself, and Will is… confused, to say the least. 

“If you keep playing these games, Doctor Lecter,” Will says, returning to his impassive persona, though his rage simmers beneath the surface, “then you shouldn’t be surprised if you spend the rest of your life in this cage you’ve made for yourself, with no company other than those you loathe.”

Hannibal’s placid expression doesn’t change, though his eyes are almost preternaturally black as he stares at Will. Calculating.

“The Great Red Dragon is freedom to him, this killer of yours,” Hannibal says after a long, charged silence. “Shedding his skin, the sound of his voice, his reflection. The building of a new body and the othering of himself, the splitting of his personality, all seem active and deliberate. He craves change.”

Something clicks, then. 

“He didn’t murder those families,” Will murmurs, understanding dawning on him. “He…  _ changed  _ them?”

“He wants to change you, too,” Hannibal says, his demeanor calm once more, eyes as black as the shadows. “Don’t you crave change, Will?”

Will is back on Bedelia’s couch, his gaze fixed on a point beyond Bedelia’s shoulder, thoughtful. 

“It seems…  _ absurd  _ to me that Hannibal will go to this extent to hurt me,” Will confesses into the calculated silence. 

Bedelia’s mouth curls into a minute smile. “Does it?”

“He’s still trying to provoke me,” Will thinks aloud. “In the absence of anyone he could threaten me with, he’s trying to find any leverage he could hold over me.”  _ Just like he did with Abigail _ , he doesn’t say. 

“And that leverage seems to be your found family,” Bedelia concludes. “He is… attached to the idea of family.”

_ I gave you a family, if you recall _ , Hannibal’s voice whispers back to him.

Will doesn’t say anything for a while; no one knows of Duncan, after all - no one except for Hannibal and the Dragon for now. It seems that Hannibal has kept his silence on his discovery of Duncan, possibly waiting for the most opportune time for a reveal. No news had leaked out about the Dragon’s attempt on Will’s “family”, other than what Will had told to Jack and Alana. All they know was that the Dragon had tried to kill his dogs and that the effort was thwarted by one of his neighbors. Half-truths and half-lies. Jack and Alana had seemed stumped yet suspicious, though none of them voiced their suspicions when he delivered the news. 

He comes back to himself when Bedelia speaks again, her words crisp and calculating. 

“Hannibal gave you three years to build a family and a life, confident he’d find a way to take them for you,” Bedelia says with conviction.

_ Not on my watch _ . Hannibal has no idea who he’s dealing with when it comes to Duncan, and that must be disconcerting to him too, Will realizes with renewed understanding. 

“What’s he going to take from you?” Will asks, deflecting.

Bedelia only smiles at the diversion, amused. “Is it important to you that he takes something from me?” 

_ Yes _ , his mind hisses.  _ You were with him behind the veil. How are you still sitting here right now? How did you manage to untangle yourself from him so completely while I’m here in his web of lies, back to where I started when I wanted to end this? _

“Hannibal has no intention of seeing me dead by any other hand than his own,” Bedelia continues when Will doesn’t reply. “And only then if he can eat me. He’s in no position to eat me now.”

Her smugness grates on him, though he’ll be damned if he shows it. “If you play, you pay,” he reminds her. 

“You’ve paid dearly,” Bedelia says, her eyes straying from his forehead to his belly, and Will’s fingers twitch at the implication. “It… excites him to see you marked in this particular way.”

“Why?” Will asks, his mind racing. 

Bedelia smirks and asks, “Why do you think?”

_ Fucking psychiatrists, _ he thinks. “Bluebeard’s wife,” he guesses. “Secrets you’re not to know, yet sworn to keep.”

Bedelia scoffs, her words derisive and pointed. “If I’m to be Bluebeard’s wife, I would’ve preferred to be the last.”

With his mind still swimming with Bedelia’s insinuations, his last visit to Hannibal’s cell comes to the front of his mind. The way Hannibal looks almost betrayed at the knowledge that Will has kept something from him, has found some sort of solace in another, one that Hannibal had not expected— the way Hannibal had acted like a  _ jilted lover _ — 

“Is Hannibal… in love with me?” He’s almost afraid of the answer.

The look Bedelia throws him is almost pitying. 

“Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment in the very sight of you? Yes.” Bedelia’s smile is cutting, her words carefully chosen. “But do  _ you  _ ache for him?”

A moment of silence as Will digests this, and then the full force of the words hit him like a freight train.

_ Fuck. _

There are other means of influence, indeed.

The next time Will sees Hannibal, it’s to deliver the news that the Great Red Dragon is dead by his own hands. 

Hannibal seems genuinely disappointed, lamenting the fact that Will didn’t get to kill anyone, as if that is supposed to be Will’s priority. Sometimes Will wonders if Hannibal’s plea of insanity wasn’t just a play for leniency; it scares him to think that what Hannibal is saying is resonating with him, that he is just as insane as Hannibal is.

_ Folie à deux _ .  _ A shared madness. _

“I do have to congratulate you on the job well done on Frederick Chilton,” Hannibal is saying, a pleased smile playing on his lips. “What a cunning boy you are.”

“Be careful of insinuations, doctor,” Will says, his tone dry and aloof. “It wouldn’t do for you to throw around unwarranted accusations at my feet. I came here to stop the Dragon. He’s stopped now.”

Hannibal hums, looking as if he sees through Will. “Yes, I suppose you can go home now. Back to your family.” Will doesn’t miss the way Hannibal stresses the word ‘family’. “If there’s any point. Is there any point?”

“I like my life there,” Will says. It’s hardly a lie, though it may not be the whole truth.

“It won’t be the same,” Hannibal says. “You’ll see it’s not the same.”

Will doesn’t miss the unspoken words there.  _ Not now that you’ve come to see me again. _

“When life becomes maddeningly polite,” Hannibal continues, “think about me. Think about me, Will, don’t worry about me.”

Will’s throat works with the emotions threatening to emerge to the surface, but he pushes them back in. He pulls himself closer to the glass separating them and puts his hand on it almost unthinkingly, reaching out. “You turned yourself in so I would always know where you are. You’d only do that if I rejected you. Goodbye, Hannibal.”

Averting his gaze from Hannibal’s mildly stunned expression, he turns on his heels to leave, eager to escape and end this part of his life.

“Will.”

Hannibal’s voice stops him in his tracks, and he turns, eyebrow raised. 

“Was it good to see me?”

The other man looks oddly vulnerable, his expression an odd mixture of hope and derision.

“Good?” Will shakes his head. “No.”

He ignores the heartbroken look on Hannibal’s face as he takes his leave.

Of course, the universe has a way of telling Will to fuck off and eat his words. 

A tiny part of him had known, somehow, that things would always end this way for him and Hannibal: both of them standing together at the edge of the world and coming together to bring down a common enemy.

The look on Hannibal’s face as they take down the Dragon together must have mirrored his own, for he can feel the way his face is distorted by his snarl when he moves in for the kill just as Hannibal tears the Dragon’s throat out. 

_ A shared madness _ , he thinks while he looks at the blood pooling around them, his whole body coated with it. His exhales are loud in his ears, his body shivering from the sensations reawakening in him with their shared kill. 

He didn’t have the time to appreciate it back when he had killed Randall Tier, but the blood on his hands really does look black in the moonlight. He says as much to Hannibal, his hand extending out to reach for the other man, to share the exultation of this consummation of their relationship. 

Hannibal’s eyes are damp as he takes hold of Will, and Will stares back at him, overwrought with emotions.

“See,” Hannibal murmurs. “This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.”

“It’s beautiful,” Will says, feeling the sting of the salty tears tracking across his face. He rests his face in the crook of Hannibal’s neck, savoring the way the other man embraces him. 

He thinks back to that moment when he sees Hannibal for the first time in three years and finds himself thinking it feels like coming home.

_ Folie à deux _ , his mind supplies.  _ Can’t live with him, can’t live without him.  _

With his arms wrapped tightly around Hannibal, he kisses the man before he pulls them towards the darkness. 


	3. a play at honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah idk these three refused to cooperate with me so I guess you're getting another chapter of this mess  
> (the last chapter will be posted tomorrow!)

Will comes to with a shocked gasp, and the first thing his brain processes is the familiar warmth surrounding him. There’s a few seconds of confusion when he registers that he can’t move his body or open his eyes, and he thinks he hears the sound of someone groaning in pain until he realizes that it’s him. The warmth turns into roiling waves instead, and he begins to panic.

Groaning, he tries to move again, but all he gets in return is excruciating pain. Something is pulling at his mouth when he tries to scream, and before he can give voice to that thought, he’s smothered by the heat of someone holding him down.

There’s someone speaking to him through his haze of pain and confusion, and he tries to focus on it, seeking an anchor. There’s something familiar about that voice, but he’s disorientated, he can’t tell where he is, and the last thing he remembered was—

_Hannibal._

“Will, you need to calm down, you’re going into shock—”

He tries to shout Hannibal’s name, but all that comes out is a scream of agony when his thrashing induces more pain and his body reacts in protest. Slumping in the other person’s hold, he’s barely aware of the flurry of activities around him and the sound of a new voice speaking over him, familiar yet unrecognizable.

A brief moment as he registers the plunge of a needle into his arm before he’s pulled under the dark waters once more.

Awareness returns to Will incrementally the next time he wakes, and the haziness clears away in stages. Blinking feels like a monumental task, but once he’s more aware of his surroundings, his motor skills slowly return to him, and he experiments until he feels like his limbs are cooperating.

He feels as if he’s floating. He must be on the good kind of drugs.

The ceiling above him is unfamiliar - there’s a fan above him whirring lazily, and he registers the heat he usually associates with a more humid weather, something similar to the muggy summers he’s experienced in New Orleans.

“Will.”

Will turns his head slowly, his fingers twitching beside him. He feels a rush of fondness when he finds the source of that voice.

“Duncan,” he manages to croak out before his words turn into hacking coughs.

Duncan is beside him in a moment, offering a cup of water in his hand. Taking grateful sips through the straw, Will fights to control his erratic breathing when he’s done. He blinks away the tears gathered at the corner of his eyes as he struggles to sit up. Duncan, seeing this, helps him up.

Once he’s seated against the headboard, he clocks in the rest of his surroundings. The bedroom they’re in is spacious, the white, stark colors with soft pastel decorations giving it an airy feel. The curtains are swaying gently with the breeze, the sliding door left open to let the cool air in. He’s right about the humid weather, he realizes, seeing the beach on the horizon through the sliding door panels.

“Where are we?” he rasps, once he finally manages to tear his sights away from the beach outside. It’s too far away to hear the sounds of the waves crashing against the beach, but he imagines he can hear it all the same.

“We’re in Cuba,” Duncan says, relief etched onto his face.

Will still feels floaty and dazed, in a way, but he feels present.

He’s almost too afraid to ask about the other person on his mind, though he can see that Duncan is expecting it. The question must have been apparent on his face.

“He’s alive,” Duncan says, sounding as if he’s almost sorry about the news he’s delivering. “He’s downstairs. Making lunch.”

The dislike in Duncan’s tone is palpable; clearly, there will be no love lost between the two men.

On Will’s part, he’s mostly relieved to hear that Hannibal is alive and well, though there’s still a part of him that wonders if that’s a good thing. They’ve survived a fall off the cliffs. If that doesn’t manage to kill him and Hannibal Lecter, then that means that the universe is truly unfair, when men like them are allowed to survive.

He pushes the lingering thoughts aside and turns to Duncan.

“How long have we been here?”

Will listens to Duncan’s explanation, leaning himself against Duncan’s comforting warmth.

Duncan had been the one to pull them out of the sea, and Chiyoh had joined him less than an hour later when she stumbled upon them while searching for Hannibal. Will is only slightly surprised to hear that Chiyoh had been tracking news on Hannibal still; he would’ve thought that she would’ve fucked off to Timbuktu once Hannibal surrendered himself. Still, he’s a little bit grateful for it since it means Duncan had help while trying to save Will and Hannibal.

It’s apparent that Cuba wasn’t actually on Duncan’s runaway-country list and that it had been Hannibal and Chiyoh’s plan, from the disinterested way Duncan talks about it. They’ve been here for close to two months now, with Will being at death’s door for almost a month before his fever broke once they arrived in Cuba. Unsurprisingly, Hannibal sustained less injury than Will did, the gunshot wound courtesy of Francis Dolarhyde being the most severe injury of them all.

_He always did have the devil’s luck,_ Will thinks wryly.

“Chiyoh still here?” Will asks. His mouth feels cottony, disgusting. The rest of him seems to be faring well; he can mostly feel the rest of his limbs (a good sign), though he knows from experience that he would only know the extent of his injury when he gets out of bed.

“She left a few weeks ago,” Duncan replies, his hand slowly carding through Will’s curls as they bask in each other’s warmth.

That warmth becomes almost stifling in the next several minutes, with how hot and humid Cuba is, but Will can’t find it in himself to move away. It’s been a while since he’s seen Duncan, and the fondness for the other man comes rushing back in now that he’s here.

“Thanks for sticking around,” Will murmurs, eyes closing at the hypnotic feel of Duncan’s hands on him. “Glad you could make it.”

“That should be my line,” Duncan says, his voice hoarse. “Thought you weren’t going to make it, after a month…”

There’s a twinge of guilt at that. Letting the other man take the rest of his weight, he settles in closer. “I’m here now,” he says finally, eyes still closed.

“Barely,” Duncan scoffs. “I would’ve killed him myself if you hadn’t survived.”

“The fall was _my_ plan,” Will reminds him mildly.

“I’ve already told you it was a shit plan when you told me about it,” Duncan says drily.

Will sighs, though whatever he was going to say is interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

His eyes fly open at the new presence, and there’s Hannibal standing at the doorway to the bedroom, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“Lunch is ready,” Hannibal says, calm and composed as ever. “Though I have not prepared anything for you, Will. I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.”

“More’s the pity?” Will asks, smirking. Hannibal would’ve probably eaten him if he hadn’t come out of his coma.

He’s glad to see Hannibal’s answering smile, though the hard edges around his eyes are still there as he takes in the domestic scene in front of him. “Never,” he promises. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” With that, Hannibal turns around and leaves without a backward glance.

Will sighs, feeling awkward at the realization that he needs to navigate these murky new waters they’ve found themselves in, now that the three of them are sharing the same space for… however long they intend to be here.

For now, he turns to Duncan. “Help me wash up?”

Lunch looks and smells delicious as expected, though Will can’t partake just yet as he’s only allowed soft foods for the next few days. Hannibal had somehow managed to prepare something for him while Will was getting cleaned up, and Will eats the offered broth in silence. Though the wound from Dolarhyde’s knife has mostly healed when he looked at it in the mirror while he was washing up, his cheek throbs with every bite he takes. The scar wasn’t pretty, but that’s the least of his worries.

The three of them eat in silence as Will looks around and takes in their surroundings. Much like the bedroom, the rest of the house is blindingly white, though there are splashes of colors from the decorations and wood-based furniture. It looks like it’s been decorated for one of the beach retreats he’d seen on advertisements; discrete, bland and unpretentious. It certainly doesn’t look like Hannibal’s had a hand in the designs, and that was probably his intention when choosing their hideout.

The atmosphere between the three of them soon becomes oppressive when none of them seemed inclined to talk except where necessary. He has a sinking feeling that _he’s_ the one who needs to be the mature one here and start talking eventually, which really doesn’t bode well for how things would turn out.

Once they’re finished breakfast, Duncan stares at Will as they communicate in silence, sensing Will’s mood.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Duncan announces, immediately standing up to leave through the kitchen door, his steps loud on the porch and the stairs as he follows the trail leading down to the beach.

Will smiles in amusement at the abrupt and rather obvious departure, his smile widening when Hannibal seems to share the same thoughts.

Clearing his throat, Will tries to think of something to say.

“Hi,” he says, and immediately winces after. “You’re— are you okay?” _Smooth, Will_ , he groans inwardly.

Hannibal smiles at Will’s obvious discomfort. “I’m mostly healed, as you can see.”

Will snorts. “You always do come out on top.”

Hannibal only smiles in return before he gets up to clear the dishes. Will observes Hannibal in silence as the other man sets out to do his chores. Hannibal looks leaner, after years of incarceration and recuperating from their fall. Outwardly, it doesn’t look as if his injuries are bothering him, no visible scars to remind them of that night on the bluff.

“He’s very protective of you,” Hannibal says while he’s washing the dishes, the din of the plates and cutleries clinking together almost drowning out his observation.

He’s not sure what sort of response the other man is expecting. Would “ _Yeah, we bonded over dogs and whiskey and we fucked a lot so I guess we’re sort of in a relationship_ ” be a bit too cavalier for Hannibal?

“He’s someone I can rely on,” Will settles on.

Hannibal pauses in his motions, seeking Will’s eyes. “Have you found a new paddle, then?”

Will shrugs. “There are different kinds of paddles for different types of waters.”

Humming, Hannibal turns thoughtful and begins to wipe down the dishes while Will continues to watch him silently. He wonders just what Hannibal made of Duncan when they finally met, curious to know what Hannibal’s impressions are, but asking directly doesn’t always seem to be the best course of action when it involves Hannibal.

Once the dishes are put away, Hannibal seems to return to himself, smiling at Will’s scrutiny.

“Would you like to get back to bed?” Hannibal asks, too solicitous for Will’s liking. “It’s likely you’ll still be easily tired out from more strenuous activities for the next few weeks while your body recovers from the trauma. You should get more rest.”

“Yeah, I could use some help,” Will admits, sighing. He has a feeling he’s going to need a lot of help until he can finally move around freely. Best to swallow his pride now.

Hannibal nods and makes his way to Will, offering his arm for Will to lean on. They make their way to the bedroom, where Will mutters a curse under his breath when they finally get to the top of the stairs.

“Fucking stairs,” Will breathes out, winded from the simple journey.

“It’s good exercise,” Hannibal says mildly, his amusement apparent.

Will glares as Hannibal deposits him on the bed. “You’re not the one who’s been practically comatose for two months.”

“You were the one who pushed us off the cliffs, if you’ll recall.”

“Knew you were gonna bring that up,” Will mutters, already feeling groggy with sleep once his head hits the pillow.

“Sleep, Will.” Will shouldn’t find Hannibal’s smirk so endearing.

Will yawns, wincing at the motion when his cheek throbs in pain. “It’s barely evening,” he grumbles without heat.

“Your body still needs to recover,” Hannibal reminds him with infinite patience. “Sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“That’s reassuring,” Will mumbles, his eyes already closing. He hears rustling nearby, slightly startled when Hannibal tucks him in ( _five-star service courtesy of Doctor Lecter_ ). “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Ever the gracious host.

There’s a warm pressure from the palm of Hannibal’s hand pressing against his forehead, and Will hums from the touch. The last thing he’s aware of before he falls asleep is the touch of Hannibal’s lips against his forehead, there and gone again in seconds that it feels like he must have dreamed it.

When Will wakes next, it’s the middle of the night, judging by the darkness surrounding him. His eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, and he turns his head to see the Duncan standing outside on his balcony, clad only in pajama bottoms.

Will stares at him for several minutes, his mind still groggy from the sleep. The man’s broad shoulders are heavy with some unseen weight, it seems, though his slouched posture suddenly tenses and becomes alert as if sensing Will’s observation. Duncan turns around, a smile spreading on his face when he sees that Will is awake.

“Hey,” Will mutters, voice hoarse from sleep. He beckons for Duncan to join him on the bed, and the other man settles in next to Will.

“Hi,” Duncan says, pulling Will closer to kiss him.

He melts into the embrace, opening his mouth in welcome. It’s been months since they’ve last kissed, and it’s nice to see the effect that he has on the other man still. They stay on their sides, exchanging languid kisses.

“I’ve missed you,” Will breathes out in between kisses.

“So have I,” Duncan replies, smiling fondly at him. His fingers run over the scar on Will’s cheek, his eyes assessing. “What happened that night?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Will promises. “Is this our bedroom? Or are you standing guard?” He can’t imagine Hannibal wanting to place Duncan and Will together in a room, knowing the man’s jealous tendencies.

“This is your room. Mine is at the other end of the hall. His room is next to yours.”

Will snorts at the positioning of their rooms. “So you’re here for a night visit, got it.”

Duncan’s eye flashes at that, a sly smile on his face. “Would you like it to be? We can check if everything is still in order.”

His breath hitches at the suggestion, thinking of all the ways that this could turn out badly. Desire wins out easily, and he nods fervently before he finds himself kissed again.

Duncan doesn’t waste any time, keeping them both on their sides as his hand takes Will’s soft cock out of his boxers and coaxes it to hardness. Will thickens in arousal as Duncan strokes him purposefully, his mouth never leaving Will’s. He begins to rut earnestly into Duncan’s hand, the movement turning desperate as he feels himself getting closer to orgasm.

“Duncan,” he groans into the other man’s mouth, his hands gripping Duncan’s shoulders in desperation. “Please, oh god—”

“Come for me, Will,” Duncan murmurs, stroking faster, his eyes intent on Will.

Will does, groaning as he spills into Duncan’s hand. He’d probably be embarrassed that it’s all over in several minutes if he wasn’t so high on endorphins. Duncan kisses him again, swallowing up his moans and gasps as he comes down from his orgasm.

“Do you need—?” Will asks, too tired to move though he still feels compelled to ask.

“Can you put your thighs together for me?” Duncan says gruffly.

Will moans and nods his acceptance, letting Duncan position him on his front. He hears rustling behind him as Duncan takes himself out, and then Duncan’s weight is on his back, pushing him into the mattress.

Duncan slots himself between Will’s thighs, pressing them together before he begins rutting against Will in earnest. Will groans at the feeling of Duncan’s cock grazing against him, struggling to keep his noises down as Duncan ruts between his thighs with increasing fervor.

Finally, he feels Duncan’s muffled growl of pleasure against his shoulder when Duncan reaches his climax, both of them sweating with the exertion. Duncan carefully extricates himself from Will before disappearing and emerging from the bathroom with a washcloth, wiping them both down before tossing the cloth to the bedside table carelessly and laying himself down beside Will.

“So what’s the verdict, doc?” Will huffs out, more exhausted than he thought he would be.

“Looks like everything’s working so far,” Duncan says, grinning. “Though we might need several more sessions to make sure you’re in the clear.”

Will snorts into the pillow, closing his eyes with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’re gonna be more thorough with me,” he teases.

Duncan hums, scooting closer to allow Will to rest his face against his chest. “I’m looking forward to it. For now, I’m prescribing more sleep for you.”

“I’ve missed you,” Will says before he starts to drift off to sleep once again.

“Me too,” Duncan murmurs, slinging an arm around Will. “Sleep, Will,” he says, an echo of Hannibal earlier.

Will does so happily.

He wakes up the next morning feeling well-rested and warm, Duncan’s body a burning furnace next to him. Whether it’s out of protectiveness or something else, the other man’s limbs are caging Will against the bed, and it takes some prodding before he manages to wake Duncan up properly.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Will mumbles, pushing Duncan to the other side of the bed.

Ignoring Duncan’s mumble of protests (the man is still decidedly not a morning person), Will sits up and looks towards the bathroom. He’s calculating the distance from his bed to the bathroom to judge his chance of not falling over while he makes his way there when he hears the sound of his bedroom door being opened.

He’s not surprised to see Hannibal there, dressed like he’s ready for the day.

Hannibal pauses when he sees Duncan’s sleeping form next to Will, and he can see the gears turning as Hannibal draws his conclusions from whatever he sees.

Will clears his throat to attract Hannibal’s attention. “A little help to the bathroom?” He sighs before tacking on a “please” at the end.

They’re both silent as Hannibal helps him to the bathroom, the whole thing made more awkward when Hannibal doesn’t seem inclined to leave while Will takes care of business.

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” Will says, exasperated. “I just needed help to get here.”

“And how will you make your way back?”

Will huffs. “Stop being sensible.”

The corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitches. “I’ll turn around if it makes you feel better.”

Will groans. “Fine. I’ll be quick.”

He does his ablutions as fast as he can while trying to ignore Hannibal’s presence, though it does help to have Hannibal around when it comes the time for Will to remove his T-shirt. The muscles in his shoulder is still uncooperative, straining in protest from large movements.

“I apologize,” Hannibal says as he helps Will out of the T-shirt. “I didn’t prepare anything other than the shirts you seemed to prefer. I do have some sleepwear with buttons if you’d like to borrow them.”

“Never mind, I’ll just go shirtless,” Will replies absentmindedly. At the dark look crossing Hannibal’s face, he clarifies, “When I’m going to sleep.”

Hannibal is actually _glaring_ at him.

Will tries to fight back his smile, but it’s clear he’s failing when Hannibal’s glare sharpens further. Abandoning all pretense, Will laughs and shakes his head at the absurdity of the situation.

“You’ll forgive me if I fail to see the humor in this situation,” Hannibal sniffs.

“Oh shut up,” Will says, laughing again. “You’re _jealous_. God, all this time you were just jealous and I can’t be— hey! Hannibal, wha— mmph—”

His laughter is effectively cut short when Hannibal closes the distance between them and pulls Will in for a kiss. As surprised as he is by the sudden kiss, he’s even more surprised by his own reaction when his knees decide to give out beneath him and Hannibal becomes the only reason he’s still standing.

“Are you alright, Will?” Hannibal has the cheek to ask when he finally pulls away, a small smile on his face.

It’s Will’s turn to glare at him, though he thinks he spoiled the effect by turning away his flushed face almost immediately after. “I’m still recovering, in case you forgot,” Will says testily, using Hannibal’s shoulders to regain his footing.

Hannibal hums, grasping at Will’s elbows to steady him further. “Then perhaps you should’ve avoided your strenuous activities last night.”

_Shit._ He can feel his flush traveling all over his face while he avoids looking at Hannibal. “I guess you heard that,” Will mumbles, embarrassed.

“Thin walls,” Hannibal agrees.

“Maybe I should sleep in Duncan’s room then—” Will hisses in pain when Hannibal’s hold tightens on him. His resulting glare is met with Hannibal’s cold stare. Sighing, Will shakes his head and tries to push Hannibal away, though all he gets is Hannibal’s vice grip tightening further around him.

“Will,” Hannibal calls him, his voice soft and almost a plea. “Look at me, please.”

Will does, almost afraid of what he’ll find.

Hannibal’s face is almost inscrutable, though his hand is gentle as he caresses Will’s scarred cheek. Will finds himself leaning into the touch, his eyes closing on a repressed sigh. He’s expecting the next kiss when it comes. This time around, he reciprocates the gentle kisses Hannibal gives him, and he hears the soft, broken moans emerging from Hannibal.

Minutes pass before they pull apart, though Hannibal doesn’t stray far, his breaths hot against Will as they rest their foreheads together.

Will swallows around the lump in his throat, and he knows that Hannibal is trying to reign in his own emotions. “I think we should talk about… whatever this is between us,” he says eventually. “Preferably not in the bathroom, and preferably when I’m not seconds away from collapsing on you.”

Hannibal studies his face for a long moment, his hands distracting on Will. He feels warm all over, though he refuses to let desire take over common sense at this particular time.

“Very well,” Hannibal murmurs at last, the moment broken as his touches turn clinical. “Do you need my help with anything else?”

Will shakes his head. “I need… a clear head.”

Nodding in understanding, Hannibal steps away in resignation. “Should I call for Duncan for when you’re done?”

He avoids Hannibal’s eyes when he nods, the guilt pulling at his chest.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” Hannibal says before he leaves the bathroom.

Sighing to himself, Will wonders how his life has come down to this.

Things are tense in their odd little household in the next few days. On the surface, nothing has really changed as they go about their new daily routines. Duncan and Hannibal are keeping their distance from one another, and Will notes that they will try to avoid being in the same room together unless Will is there.

Mealtimes are understandably tense. Though Will tries his best to pretend like everything is normal, Hannibal’s cool reactions and Duncan’s obvious dislike of Hannibal are not really helping things. For his part, Will feels like he’s trapped in some sort of twilight zone, or worse, one of those cliche romantic comedies with trite love triangles he’s had to watch with one of his ex-girlfriends (back when he still had girlfriends, which was decades ago).

If he wasn’t so dependent on Hannibal or Duncan’s help on moving around, he has half a mind to just leave this house and never look back. _It’s not too late to start a new life again_ , he thinks morosely on one of the more depressing days.

Hannibal has reverted to his person suit façade whenever he’s dealing with Will, and it grates him to see the man so aloof and poised. He would like nothing more than to mess up that calm demeanor, just to see what would happen. As it is, he thinks it’s probably not the smartest move to antagonize the man who’s in charge of nursing his body back into health, since Hannibal has decided that he’d be responsible for Will’s “rehabilitation program” to ensure that Will’s body returns to its prior condition as much as possible.

He is thankful for the exercise; it requires a lot of his concentration and it’s also his only window of opportunity to talk to the other man alone sometimes, even if they end up talking about inane things like Will’s health and recuperation progress. He’d noticed that Hannibal seems to be avoiding _him_ at times, and it infuriates and frustrates him in equal measures even though he knows why the man is acting like he does.

Duncan remains as stoic as ever, though he hasn’t bothered to disguise his dislike of Hannibal, even when Will is around. The conversation between the three of them at mealtimes are often stilted because of their odd dynamics, and Will is at a loss on how to move forward from here.

The only reason he’s still sane in the midst of all this headache-inducing drama is because Duncan still comes to him at night to keep him company. He’s become so used to Duncan’s presence in his bed that it would be odd to turn the man away just to appease a certain cannibal. They have stopped their more “strenuous” activities in favor of sleeping a full eight hours in a day, which is fine by Will because he still finds himself needing the odd nap here and there while his body is still recovering.

A week after that kiss in the bathroom, Will thinks he’s finally ready to talk to Hannibal about it because otherwise, he thinks he’d likely just shoot himself in the head just to be done with this.

Will goes to Hannibal’s room that evening after dinner while Duncan disappears into his own room. He’s been feeling better, generally, and his physical therapies with Hannibal is actually working wonders for him. He shouldn’t be surprised to find that Hannibal was actually a capable doctor, though he thinks this is probably the first time in a long while he’s used those skills for the greater good.

Steeling himself, he knocks on the door and waits for Hannibal’s response before he enters. The room looks similar to Will’s own, though it’s much more spacious than his. He notes with some amusement that Hannibal has a better view of the beach. He finds Hannibal seated on his bed with a tablet in hand. The sight of the man sitting alone on the massive bed – in contrast to the warm and cozy space Will shares with Duncan – tugs something at Will, though he pushes it aside.

Best not to go down that road just yet.

Looking around, Will decides to sit at one of the chairs situated near the sliding doors. Hannibal follows suit and positions himself in the opposite chair, their placement so similar to their previous therapy sessions that it makes Will smile.

“Would you care to share what has you so amused?” Hannibal asks, all prim and proper.

Will shrugs and gestures to the way they’re seated. “Just… reminded me of old times.”

He gets a genuine smile out of Hannibal after a week of nothing else except for polite smiles. “Would you like to continue our conversations then? Perhaps we should start from where we left off.”

Scoffing, Will shakes his head. “No, no. I think you and I are past these sorts of games we used to play. I’m done playing.” _If you play, you pay._

Hannibal looks… hurt, though he’s trying his best to look unaffected. “Then I admit I’m confused as to why you came here.”

Will stares at Hannibal, silent. If it wasn’t for his recovery, he would’ve damned it all to hell and popped open a bottle of whiskey. There are so many things that he wants to talk about with Hannibal, so many things still left unresolved where they’re concerned, and yet when it comes right down to it, he hardly knows where to start.

“I need honesty,” Will settles on.

“Haven’t I always been honest with you?”

“Your truths are woven with lies of omission. If I were to pick a thread and pull, your house of cards would come tumbling down and you would pull me with you.”

“In order to seek honesty, you would have to reach the same level of truth with yourself.”

Will sighs. “I know who I am, now more so than ever. Do _you_?”

Hannibal’s expression is inscrutable, though he doesn’t look pleased at Will’s question. “Yes, you believe that you know a version of you; a changed man.”

“Hannibal,” Will says, exasperated by the deflection. “We’ve killed the Dragon together. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Does it?” Hannibal’s head tilts. “You’ve denied your instincts before. I would hope that you wouldn’t seek to deny yourself the second time, but I’ll admit I’m wary of being proven wrong again.”

_Pain, as blade cuts through his flesh, the teacup shattering on the kitchen floor—_

_Panic as Hannibal beckons her closer._ Abigail.

_“Oh no, no, don’t—”_

_—his vision fills with blood and the sight of Abigail’s cooling body—_

Looking away, Will lets out another frustrated sigh, his fingers twitching against the scar on his belly. Even after three years, the pain still lingers.

This wasn’t what he wanted - he doesn’t want to pick and poke at their old wounds. There’s no good to be gained in trying to bring up the many ways they’ve hurt each other and all the other collaterals that stood in their way.

_Maybe this was why we didn’t die after all; punishment for daring to survive after all the dead bodies we’ve left behind,_ he muses. Maybe they’re just meant to orbit in each other’s axis, never allowed to touch, yearning for each other from afar as they pass by each other like ships in the night.

Will has no idea how much time passed as they sit and regard each other in silence. “Maybe we should’ve died that night,” he says at last, more to himself.

“You deemed death as a just punishment for the two of us?”

He shrugs. “Nothing in this life is fair. You of all people would know that. If life is _just_ , everything that we have done to each other would never have come to pass. You and I would never have met.”

Will is not expecting the emotion that crosses Hannibal’s face at that - pain, betrayal - though it’s gone in an instant as Hannibal’s face shutters closed. 

“If you wish me to be gone from your life, you need only say so.”

Will laughs mirthlessly at that. “Do you expect me to believe that? After you turned yourself in, just so I would know where you would be?”

Hannibal’s throat works soundlessly, and he finally looks away. “I would, this time. You have found your family, after all.”

The words finally enabled the puzzle pieces to slot together, and he thinks, _Oh. Will Graham, you are an idiot._ He realizes, then, what he had not before:

While he had Duncan to help him throughout the three years he and Hannibal had spent separately, Hannibal had been whiling his days away in his cell, blissfully unaware that Will had found a different sort of happiness. To see him after three years, coming back to him as a changed man and not knowing the cause of it, must have grated at him. But to know and finally see the cause and extent of that change when Duncan is right there taking what should’ve been his—

_He thinks I’m beyond his reach now and that one day he will wake up and find me gone._

Will considers his words carefully then, suddenly aware of just how precarious this moment is. ~~He’s fearful of fucking this up for both of them because if he does, he knows that this time around, Hannibal will leave him for good.~~

“I was happy, for the last three years,” he says, ignoring the pain crossing Hannibal’s features. “I had my dogs, I had good company. I didn’t have to delve into other serial killers’ minds. I had my mind and my time to myself. I finally had the chance to have a healthy relationship for once in my life. I was happy.”

The silence grows, and it’s only broken by the soft sigh he lets out after minutes of reflection.

“Do you know why I came back to see you, even knowing that doing so would mean throwing that happiness away?” he asks finally, willing Hannibal to _see_.

“We’re both alone without each other,” Hannibal says, his eyes flashing with challenge, repeating the words that Will had said to him so many moons ago.

“We’re conjoined,” Will agrees. “Deep down, I’d always known that we’d end up here. You saw to that.”

“If you’re aiming for honesty, you need to be honest with yourself, Will.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “I want to be here.” He can at least admit that much in hindsight, remembering how much he’s missed Hannibal when the man left him behind on his kitchen floor, while they were apart for three years during Hannibal’s incarceration.

The other man looks pleased from the admission, though he eyes Will warily, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And so here we are.”

Will heaves a sigh, staring into Hannibal’s eyes. “I’m here because I know now that neither of us can live without the other.” A pause. “But that’s not a healthy way to live.”

“I’m curious then, Will: what do you propose?”

“I’m not going to ask Duncan to leave. You’re not going to kill him. I know you’ve been contemplating it from the moment you knew of his existence. You must have thought it was just as well that the Dragon had failed to kill him, that the honor of killing him should belong to you. Know that if you kill him, I will kill you myself.”

Hannibal remains silent throughout Will’s speech, though his face darkens with every word. “I wonder what is it about him that drives you to defend him, so much so that you’re willing to kill me for a perceived slight against him. Do you expect me to be happy to hand you over to him?”

“I expect you to…” Will falters then, knowing what he says will likely change the course of his relationship with Hannibal forever. Steeling himself, he pushes on. “I need to know if it was possible for you to tamper this possessive hold you have of me, enough to consider that this doesn’t have to be an ultimatum for either of us.”

The way Hannibal bristles with indignation at the insinuation is almost enough to make Will laugh, though the heavy conversation is enough to put a stop to that. “You’re suggesting that we… share,” Hannibal says, his disdain palpable.

Will shrugs, uncomfortable. “I know that’s asking you for a lot. But the alternative is that either one of us ends up dead. I don’t know about you, but I’ve about had it with near-death experiences. And yes, before you say anything, I know that I was the one who pulled us off the cliffs. I took a calculated risk.”

“The risks you take seem to indicate that you think my life is replaceable,” Hannibal observes darkly.

“Oh for fuck’s sakes!” Will spits out, having had enough of their circular conversation, his voice rising in frustration. “Did you ever think about _why_ I came back after three years of silence, even though I knew I should’ve stayed away? Why do you think I orchestrated your release?

“Despite all my reservations, despite all the fucking signs telling me that I must be _crazy_ to free the man who had framed me for murder, the man who had actively tried to kill every single person in my life to ensure that I’m just as alone as he is — despite everything, I did it because _I’m in love with you. That’s_ why I’m still here right now!”

There had been only a handful of moments where Will thinks he managed to catch Hannibal by surprise. Paying a visit to the doctor to resume his therapy after his incarceration had been one such moment, and presenting his kill on Hannibal’s dinner table had been another. The look on Hannibal’s face at those points in time were enough to sustain him, to know that he could affect and surprise the other man so had given him immense satisfaction.

That said, he thinks nothing can compare to the shock that’s evident on Hannibal’s right now, the man actually struck silent.

Still incensed and frustrated, Will hisses, “If I had known that honesty is all it takes to get through you and your narcissistic ego, I would’ve done this long ago.”

Body tense and shaking with suppressed rage, he rises from the chair and makes his hasty retreat, uncaring of the consequences of his action for once.


	4. convergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I'm aware that I'm a liar who lied and said that this chapter would be posted like a week ago. I’m sorry, the three of them won't cooperate again and then anxiety took over, so that was fun /s
> 
> To those who are still here: thank you, and please have some smut for all of your troubles XD

Will avoids Hannibal after his outburst, his mood as dark as the stormy weather that has come upon their little hideaway.

After he’s had some time to reflect, part of him feels a bit foolish for his outburst, his confession making him want to dive into the seas and let it take him wherever. At least that way he won’t have to face Hannibal ever again. The incident replays itself in Will’s mind every time he closes his eyes at night, the scene playing out like a damn movie. It’s a curse on his emotions as his empathy works into overdrive, tormenting his silent vigil well into the night while Duncan sleeps next to him.

There’s also a part of him that feels stung by Hannibal’s rejection when days pass and Hannibal has yet to approach him. It’s been days since they had talked, beyond the scant few greetings and grunts that they’ve exchanged out of necessity when they inevitably need to interact with one another. Hannibal remains civil with him, but there’s an obvious distance between them. They’ve become so awkward around each other that it’s hard to imagine that they could ever reconcile, much less go back to how things were before.

Thankfully Duncan is beside him most of the time, the man accompanying Will on their routine walks on the beach as part of Will’s exercise program. His stoic, reassuring presence has a way of calming the storm in his mind ever since they first met. He doesn’t broach the topic of the obvious drift between Will and Hannibal, and Will is grateful for it.

Will knows, though, that it’s only a matter of time before the need to talk about it becomes too much, and he’s liable to do stupid things when things reach their breaking point. So he does eventually decide to talk with Duncan, days after his fight with Hannibal.

They’re laid beside each other in Duncan’s bed, where Will had decided to relocate for the past few days. He had thought it best to reduce the chances of running into Hannibal that way as their rooms are at the opposite end of the hallway, and it had proven to be effective so far. (He tries not to think how Hannibal would perceive his relocation, though admittedly a small, spiteful part of him hopes that Hannibal stews over it.)

“How do you feel about moving again?”

 _Huh. That’s not what I meant to say._ His flight instincts must’ve awakened after the fight option had proven to be fraught with consequences.

Duncan’s hand – which had been carding through Will’s curls – pauses in its ministration, before resuming again in a split second. “I assume you meant just the two of us, when you talk of ‘moving’.”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out, closing his eyes as he buries his face further into the crook of Duncan’s neck.

“Is that what you really want?”

A small sigh. “I guess it’s obvious that I’m trying to run away.”

“You do have a tendency of avoiding your problems,” Duncan murmurs after a pause, his tone gentle.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Will huffs, though there’s no heat to his words. “I just… I don’t know how to make this right. I guess it’s not really a fair ultimatum to give to someone like Hannibal. I don’t think he’s capable of sharing.”

Duncan shifts beside him, forcing Will to look at him directly. His expression is grave as he asks, “What makes you think I am?”

Will smiles readily, bringing his fingers to Duncan’s face to brush them softly at the corner of Duncan’s damaged eye. “I know you,” he says simply, giving Duncan a soft kiss. “I know you’re willing to compromise if it means you’d get to keep me in some ways.”

Looking displeased, Duncan grunts and kisses Will deeply. “Maybe you underestimated the depths of my jealousy.”

“Maybe,” Will says in between kisses. “But I know you all the same.”

They eventually break apart, Will almost whining in protest when Duncan pulls away. The older man just chuckles in amusement, pulling Will in to settle close to him. “You should sleep. You’re meant to be resting.”

“Ugh, this is revenge, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve been recuperating for months,” Will grumbles, though the yawn he gives after doesn’t really help his case.

“Just rest.” Duncan resumes his stroking of Will’s curls, the action lulling Will into a drowsy state. He’s at the edge of sleep when he hears Duncan talking again, the words soft and hesitant.

“He’ll come around. He’s too infatuated with you not to.”

Sighing, Will lets the words and Duncan’s hand lull him to sleep.

It’s been a week since his “fight” with Hannibal and Will is still at a loss at what to do.

Though they are still giving each other a wide berth, he and Hannibal have graduated to actually exchanging more than a few sentences at least. The awkwardness lingers, but at least they’re more or less on speaking terms. It does feel a little like living with a stranger in the house, however.

(Hannibal being mindful of Will’s boundaries for once is nothing short of an ironic twist which Will does not appreciate at this point in time.)

On the dawn of the new week, Will finally decides that enough is enough as he stares at the ceiling of Duncan’s bedroom. They can’t continue as they are, or Will thinks he will go stir-crazy, trapped as he is in the house while he’s still supposed to “recuperating” with no one but a subdued cannibal and a retired assassin to keep him company.

Resolved, Will goes about his morning ablutions alone, as he’s finally gained enough strength to actually go about the house on his own for the past few days. He still gets tired easily, resorting to a few hours of nap in the afternoon after his rehabilitation program with Hannibal (awkward though it was, Hannibal never did discontinue his sessions with Will, though Hannibal remains clinical in his conversation and touches).

He’s up early enough that Duncan is still snoring on the bed by the time Will is ready to face the day. Will smiles fondly at the sight of the man before he makes his way downstairs, the wooden stairs creaking under his feet. When he makes his way into the kitchen, he’s slightly surprised to find that Hannibal is nowhere to be seen, considering the man has always been an early riser compared to Will and Duncan.

Just as well. Will is ready to extend some sort of olive branch, as it’s unlikely Hannibal is going to approach him, possibly wary of Will’s reaction given the conversation they had a week earlier. Even if Hannibal wasn’t ready to give words to his own feelings just yet, Will decides that he’s willing to compromise. He can’t bear the thought of them drifting apart again, not after the sublime experience of killing the Dragon brought them together.

Will putters about the kitchen, opening the cabinets and the fridge to assess the ingredients he has to work with. Hannibal has kept the kitchen well-stocked, and Will finds what he’s looking for, arranging them on the kitchen counter as he sets to work.

By the time someone joins him minutes later, the smell of omelets and sausages have permeated the kitchen, mingling with the scent of coffee brewing quietly at the other kitchen corner. Even without turning around, he recognizes Hannibal’s familiar presence.

“Would you mind getting the plates for me?” he asks, meeting Hannibal’s calculating gaze, keeping his tone nonchalant.

Hannibal moves around him to reach for the plates, placing them near Will silently.

“Thank you,” Will murmurs, giving Hannibal a fleeting smile before returning his attention to the task at hand. His skin prickles from the feel of Hannibal’s eyes on him while he’s plating their breakfast, though he ignores as he begins plating their meals.

Hannibal picks up the plates without prompting once Will is done with them, bringing them to the dining table while Will keeps the remaining omelets and sausages in a container for Duncan later. By the time he joins the other man, Hannibal has poured out two mugs of coffee and was seated at the dining table, watching Will expectantly.

Their plates are arranged in a way that ensures Will would be seated next to Hannibal at the head of the small dining table, and he takes his place wordlessly. He gives Hannibal another brief smile before picking up the cutleries and waits for Hannibal to do the same. Watching Hannibal cut the sausages into small pieces before bringing it to his mouth, Will lets himself be distracted by the motions, ignoring his own meal in favor of seeing Hannibal’s reaction.

“It’s delicious,” Hannibal says after taking the first bite.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised about it,” Will huffs, though he can’t keep the smile from creeping on his face.

“It’s the first time you’ve prepared a meal for me.” Hannibal’s small smile is almost blinding. “I appreciate the gesture. Thank you, Will.”

Will can feel his cheeks flushing and he turns his attention to the meal in front of him, ignoring Hannibal’s knowing look. “Consider it a peace offering. We can call it a truce of some kind, since neither of us are ready to talk about… whatever this is right now.”

He sees Hannibal’s hands twitch on the table from his peripheral vision. “Will—”

Whatever Hannibal was going to say is unexpectedly interrupted by a cacophony of sounds, loud in the relative silence of their surroundings, and Will is soon distracted by the familiarity of it. It sounds like— Though it can’t be—

Staggering up to his feet, he ignores the vertigo that comes with the sudden movement and makes a move to the door that leads him to the back porch. The unmistakable sound of dogs barking in the distance drives his feet forward and he goes down the porch steps, his attention snapped to the path leading to the beach trail and his excitement rising with the approaching sounds.

His gaze is drawn to the direction of the barks, his eyes honing in on the sight of Chiyoh and—

“Oh my god,” Will laughs as his eyes land on his swarming pack of dogs, his family.

The dogs’ ears perk at the sound of Will’s laughter and they rush forward to greet him with loud, excited barks, Chiyoh loosening her hold on their leashes to avoid being tugged together into the fray. Will kneels down into the sand, his mind barely registering the grains digging into his knees. All he’s aware of in that moment is that his family is here.

“Hey guys, hi,” Will says, eyes stinging as his pack surrounds him, uncaring at how their leashes tangle together in their hurry to bury him with affection. He’s babbling inanely to his pack, kissing and petting all of them in a rush of emotions. “I’ve missed you.”

In between all the commotion, he registers the sound of the door swinging open and closing again, the dogs’ attention similarly distracted by it. Hannibal emerges on the back porch of their house, Duncan following close behind, looking sleep-rumpled and none too pleased at being woken by the noise.

A few of the more adventurous dogs out of his pack – notably Buster, Archie and Harley – break apart from the group, following Chiyoh as she makes a move towards Hannibal to speak softly with the man before she slips inside the house like a silent shadow. Archie and Harley sniff Hannibal curiously while Buster demands his share of affection from Duncan.

Will is still greeting the rest of his pack with unrestrained joy, the shock and excitement at seeing his dogs here with him suffusing him with giddiness. It feels like years since he’s laughed so openly. He’s beaming when he turns towards the other two men still lingering on the porch, and his breath stutters to a stop when he sees the look on Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal is looking at him with so much fondness that Will’s heart feels like it’s bursting with happiness.

_Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment in the very sight of you?_

Something pulls at him then, the thought of Hannibal bringing his dogs to him sending him to his feet. He tries to disentangle himself from the dogs, though they follow him at his heels anyway when Will makes his way to the porch.

Hannibal watches silently as Will approaches him, the smile on his face giving way to wariness.

_But do you… ache for him?_

_Yes_ , he thinks fiercely, wrapping his arms around the other man. The answer is clear to him now, more than ever, as he closes the distance between them and pulls Hannibal in for a kiss. He hears Hannibal makes a surprised sound after a few seconds, and he’s disappointed to realize that Hannibal is pulling away until he realizes that it’s out of necessity.

The dogs have congregated around them when they had followed Will, and in their excitement, they’ve tangled their leashes together around Will and Hannibal, which explains Hannibal’s surprised sound earlier.

He finds himself laughing again, looking around to find Duncan staring at them in amusement. “Don’t just stand there,” Will huffs out, grinning. “Mind helping us out?”

Duncan acquiesces silently, stepping closer to them to give Will a quick kiss before he whistles for the dogs’ attention. The dogs, accustomed to Duncan, turn to him as one as Duncan begins to untangle the leashes from one another. He makes quick work of it, so used to wrangling Will’s dogs together that Will can’t help himself when he pulls Duncan in for another kiss.

Smiling wryly when Will pulls away, Duncan offers the leash to Will. “I suppose you’ll want to take them for a walk?”

“Of course,” Will chuckles, taking the leashes to start undoing them from the dogs, his pack even more excited at the word “walk”. “You’d have to join me since you’re the one who said the magic words.”

He turns his head to look up at Hannibal, giving him a wide smile. Hannibal looks dazed, as if worried that Will might turn out to be a fever dream after all.

“You wanna join us?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “I need to speak to Chiyoh.”

“Okay,” Will says, concentrating on removing the last of the leashes, which Duncan stows away for him. “We’ll just be out for an hour or so, I think.”

“I look forward to it,” Hannibal says, smiling again.

“Okay.” Going with his instincts, he leans in for a soft kiss before he busies himself with the dogs, some of them already trotting ahead of him when Duncan leads them towards the trail to the beach.

He allows himself a final glance towards Hannibal before he marches off with the dogs, his own smile threatening to split his face when he sees Hannibal looking at him with a dazed smile as he walks away.

The dogs gave Will and Duncan a full workout, excited at the novelty of playing at the beach. Thanks to the daily walks on the beach and Hannibal’s rigorous rehabilitation effort, Will’s strength has gradually returned, but he still feels thoroughly wiped out by the end of their excursion.

By the time they make it back to their house, even the dogs are showing signs of fatigue. It turns out that they’d been out on the beach for almost two hours, and Will’s stomach is grumbling in protest since he never did finish his breakfast before it was interrupted this morning. Duncan helps Will with washing the dogs outside before they make their way into the house, both dogs and humans alike getting excited at the scent of lunch wafting through the kitchen.

Hannibal had evidently cooked up a storm in their absence, having foreseen that they would be out for more than a few hours. Will watches on with an amused smile while Hannibal and Chiyoh prepare the table for lunch, the scene almost domestic if one didn’t know any better.

“Welcome back,” Hannibal says warmly.

Will hums appreciatively while Duncan searches the kitchen for some leftover sausages, the dogs looking expectantly towards Duncan in hopes of food. Too tired to be helpful, Will collapses into the chair at the dining table, which earns him a dirty look from Chiyoh. Will shrugs and gives her a sheepish smile which she pointedly does not return.

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbles to her. “For bringing my dogs. Couldn’t have been easy.”

Chiyoh gives a small shrug, placing the meals on the table. “Your dogs are well-behaved for the most part.” They’re definitely better behaved than you, her look seems to say.

“That they are,” Will agrees.

“You should thank Hannibal for arranging everything. I merely waited at the final checkpoint to pick them up.”

Will nods, eyes on Hannibal as the man approaches him.

“Yeah, uh, I plan to do that,” he says, just as Hannibal’s eyes catch his. Cheeks reddening again – this time decidedly not from exertion – he turns away to look at Duncan instead, who gives him a knowing look as he feeds the dogs in Will’s stead.

Rolling his eyes, Will beckons for Duncan to join them as Hannibal and Chiyoh take a seat. Hannibal sits at the head of the dining table while Chiyoh takes the opposite seat. With the dogs eating silently at one corner in the kitchen and Duncan seated across from him, Will thinks this might be the weirdest family meal he’s ever had yet.

Lunch turns out to be enjoyable, with everyone seemingly in an agreeable mood at the addition of the new company. While Chiyoh is not exactly a vibrant conversationalist, she does bring with her news of the outside world, which energizes their usually lackluster party. He’s happy to hear that there has been no recent news on the subject of their disappearance and that there wasn't a lot of evidence to support suspicions of their current whereabouts. It’s just as well that they’re all lying low for now; he hopes that Jack and his team will lose their scents for the next coming year, at least.

For his part, he’s more than comfortable settling in at their little corner of the world, though he doubts that they’ll get to keep their peace for long. If he knows anything about Jack, he knows that the man is tenacious and would keep searching for them if there’s even a small clue to lead him to Hannibal.

With their meals finished and no new information left for Chiyoh to share, Chiyoh and Hannibal gathered up all the plates, their movements practiced and synchronized. It’s rare for Will to see Hannibal be so comfortable with someone else helping him in the kitchen, and he watches them for a while before thanking them for the meal, pulling Duncan with him to get the dogs relocated to the living room.

The two of them set up a corner for the dogs in the living room, and Will makes a list of things to buy for the dogs as he looks around the space. He’s thankful for the sparse carpeting in the house. The floorboards might suffer some damage from the dogs’ claws, but he thinks that’s a small price to pay; he’ll offer to rework them later to appease Hannibal if he has to. They would definitely need to buy dog beds; he doubts Hannibal would take too kindly to Will allowing the dogs in his bedroom, even with their newfound truce.

The dogs seem happy enough with the current arrangement, most of them dozing off as soon as their heads hit the floor, belly full of food and tired from their morning exercise. Will sits by them on the floor, leaned against one of the couches nearby while he pets Buster.

Duncan mutters something about taking a smoke and a shower, and Will hums an acknowledgment, his eyes closing.

He must’ve dozed off somehow because when he comes to, his head is nestled against someone’s leg, and it doesn’t take him long to recognize Hannibal’s scent, the man’s fingers petting his curls softly. The sight of his dogs sleeping so peacefully and the warmth of Hannibal next to him brings a small smile on his face.

Maybe they can still salvage this somehow.

Dinner is a more subdued affair, partly due to the fact that Chiyoh has left the three of them to handle their own tangled mess (which Will couldn’t blame her for, really).

Chiyoh had announced her intention to leave while all of them were sitting in the living room in the early evening. Hannibal looked as if he had expected her announcement, and he only smiled in approval when she told him that she’ll be leaving in another hour. Will had wondered if Chiyoh is finally free – no longer bound to the Lecter family – now that Hannibal had seemingly found his footing in this odd makeshift family they’ve built.

When asked later in the quieter part of their evening once Chiyoh has left, Hannibal had given Will an enigmatic smile. “She was always free to leave. It was her choice to come back and find me. Just as it is her choice now to leave for good, if she so chooses.”

For his part, Will had thanked Chiyoh earnestly for bringing the dogs with her before she left, his gratitude graciously accepted with a small smile.

“I hope you’ll be happy here with them,” were her parting words to him.

Both Hannibal and Chiyoh’s words ring in his mind throughout dinner, and he goes through dinner with a sense of rising anticipation, eating the meal without really tasting it.

Despite the show of affection between the three of them this morning, he’s aware that they would still need to talk to feel their way through their new dynamic. Dinner doesn’t seem to be the best place to bring any of this up, however, and so they eat in near silence, as Will doesn’t have it in him to make inane talks.

The night brings with it the cool breeze, and Will decides to take the dogs out before bedtime. Though the beachside house doesn’t have a similar expansive plot of land that serves as Will’s yard back in Wolf Trap, their house is mostly secluded from the rest of civilization, so he lets the dogs roam around the open area, familiarizing themselves with the grounds and marking their territories.

Will is slightly surprised that Duncan hadn’t offered to join him and the dogs, and he has a feeling that Hannibal and Duncan are working things out amongst themselves when the two of them had disappeared together. He wonders idly what they could possibly have to talk about.

Eventually, Will whistles for the dogs to return to the house. With the dogs accounted for, he closes the door behind him and begins to corral them into their sleeping corners, pleased that the dogs are settling in nicely. Winston tends to be the wariest out of the lot, but even he seems to be content with their new home. He watches his pack for a while, appreciating the moment.

The sound of the creaking staircase brings him back to himself, and he’s joined by Duncan in the living room before long.

“Hey,” Will greets, a smile blooming on his face at the soft look the man throws him.

Duncan returns Will’s smile and extends his hand to help Will up. “Ready for bed?”

Will nods, groaning as he stands when his back strains in protest. “Long day,” he says, his yawn punctuating the point.

Chuckling fondly, Duncan leads him upstairs by the hand, and Will’s alertness returns when he’s taken through the hallway leading to Hannibal’s room instead of Duncan’s.

Licking his lips, Will wonders aloud, “Where are we going?”

Duncan smirks before they make their way into Hannibal’s room, the door already left ajar for their anticipated arrival.

Will’s mouth turns dry when Hannibal greets them with a nod, the man seated calmly at the edge of the bed. Will turns to Duncan with a questioning look, wondering just what exactly he’s walked into.

Instead of replying, Duncan smiles and steps closer, giving Will a chaste kiss before pushing him towards Hannibal.

Rolling his eyes, Will huffs and glares at both men. “Is anyone going to explain what the hell is going on, or am I supposed to intuit it somehow?”

That earns him a small smile from Hannibal.

“We have been talking,” Hannibal begins, “of you.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Will says warily, keeping his distance still.

“It pains me to admit that in certain ways, Duncan has more experience with you in terms of… intimacy.”

Will’s mouth falls open at that, and the only reason he’s not laughing at this conversation is because he’s _mortified_. Nothing comes to mind when he tries to formulate a response, though it seems that Hannibal is not expecting any from the way he continues.

“Both of us have come to some sort of agreement and understanding, after our talk,” Hannibal says, looking as if the words are pulled out of him.

“Don’t you think that I should’ve been included in this talk as well?” Will asks dryly. “After all, you’re talking about me dividing my time between the two of you, so shouldn’t I have a say in this?”

Hannibal tilts his head, smiling suddenly. “Oh, I see.”

“What?” Will asks, brows furrowing.

“You are under the impression that your time with us would be spent separately.”

“I assumed that’s what would happen because you two can’t stand each other,” Will says, rolling his eyes.

“You underestimate the affection we have for you,” Hannibal says. “As I’ve said, we have both come to an understanding – tenuous as it may be, as it’s still work in progress.”

“I’ll say,” Duncan chimes in, snorting.

Will swallows, looking back and forth between the two men as if they’ve lost their collective mind. This wasn’t exactly what he was expecting when he suggested that they share, though he can’t deny the frisson of excitement that runs through him at the thought.

“I believe that talking has run its course,” Hannibal says when it appears that Will won’t be responding. "Perhaps you'd allow us to demonstrate instead."

The implication behind those words is clear when Hannibal rises from the bed and approaches Will silently and carefully, as if worried that Will might bolt at any moment. A part of him wonders if that’s exactly what he would do, his body tensing at the thought that he’s at the edge of the precipice, and he’s not quite sure what he will find when he falls.

Rooted at his spot, he stands stiffly when Hannibal finally comes to a stop before him, the man’s movements purposeful and careful when he pulls Will in for a soft kiss.

The shock quickly melts into desire when Hannibal’s lips touch his, and he slowly yields into it. His heart is hammering against his ribcage as Duncan approaches him from behind, his breath hitching in surprise when the man begins to leave biting kisses against his nape. Will groans into the kiss, the feeling of two bodies rutting against him beginning to overwhelm him. He pushes Hannibal away lightly, a silent plea for a moment to catch his breath, to center himself.

For a moment, the three of them breathe against one another, and Will is only aware that Hannibal and Duncan are having a silent conversation without him when he sees the considering look Hannibal throws the other man over his shoulder.

Both men pull apart then, though it’s only to pull Will towards Hannibal’s bed. His legs feel as if they might fall out from under him, and he lets Duncan maneuver him to sit on the massive bed, wondering just what they have in store for him.

“Take off your clothes, Will,” Duncan murmurs to him.

The thought of undressing himself in front of an attentive audience of two makes his skin flush with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. His hands move at their own volition, however, and once he’s finished undressing himself, Will impatiently urges Duncan to do the same. The other man chuckles at Will’s insistent hands, though he acquiesces silently.

The bed dips when Hannibal joins them, and Will turns toward Hannibal, his mouth going dry again at the sight of his bare body. Hannibal is already erect, his gaze intense as his eyes flick over Will’s form. Will’s eyes trace over the scars on Hannibal’s body silently while his hands roam across Hannibal’s skin, mapping the differences and similarities between the two men he has come to love. While Duncan’s bulky body is a mess of scars, Hannibal’s body is leaner in comparison, his figure telling of his love for the finer things in life.

He’s distracted from his study at the touch of Duncan’s mouth on his neck, the man’s hands settling to Will’s flank to remind Will that he’s still here. Will’s excitement rises at the thought of being caught in the middle of these two killers, their touches competing for his attention.

“I believe you were offering your help earlier,” Hannibal murmurs.

It takes Will a few seconds to work out that Hannibal is talking to Duncan instead of him, and he shakes his head in an attempt to clear the confusion from his mind. _Now what?_

Duncan grunts in agreement before he can formulate his question, and then there’s the rustle of beddings as Duncan pulls Will to lean against him, Duncan’s furry chest brushing against his back. The question dies on his lips when Duncan kisses him, their mouths slotting together perfectly, his embrace so warm and familiar that it’s easy to fall into it.

He’s pulled away from the kiss at the feel of cold, wet fingers at his entrance, Duncan’s touch unexpected and sudden. Arousal mingles with shame once more when he turns his head only to realize that Hannibal is watching their display with brazenness, his eyes filled with desire at the sight of Will being stretched open on Duncan’s fingers.

Will groans at Duncan’s insistent touches, and his hands scrabble to find a hold on Duncan’s arm trapping him against the older man’s body. It’s easier to let his eyes flutter shut and enjoy the sensations instead of looking at Hannibal’s greedy gaze on him, and his cock twitches in pleasure once Duncan’s fingers brush against his prostate.

“Does it feel good, Will?” Duncan’s voice, low in his ears, bring goosebumps to his skin.

Will would glare at him if he could, though Duncan chooses that moment to crook his fingers inside him again, effectively reducing Will to incoherent moans. He huffs a little when Duncan lets up and he cranes his neck to look at the other man. “You know it does.”

Duncan smiles, rewarding Will with another press of his fingers.

“Fuck,” Will hisses, his legs twisting in the sheets from the teasing touch. He chances a glance at Hannibal, smirking at the heated expression on the other man’s face. “Are you just going to watch me all night?”

Hannibal gives him a crooked smile, the tip of his fangs showing. “I intend to participate, soon enough.”

Will’s breath stutters at that, and he lets out a broken moan once he understands the implication behind those words.

“Would you like that, Will?” Duncan asks.

Duncan has never been much of a vocal lover, and hearing him talk in such a way is enough to make Will lose his mind, especially with the way he teases Will with his hands and fingers. _Playing it up for an audience_ , he realizes.

Will nods, weak with pleasure. “Please,” he whispers, his face flushing at how eager he sounds.

He hears Duncan’s chuckle close to his ears, the sound sending shivers down his spine. Duncan brings them both into a kneeling position, spreading Will’s thighs spread wide on the bed, their bodies plastered close to one another as Duncan holds Will against him. He listens to the sounds of Duncan lathering himself with lubricant, his anticipation rising when Duncan pulls him closer. When the tip of Duncan’s cock finally catches on his rim, he drops his gaze to the bed with a shuddering breath, noting how white his knuckles are as he grasps the sheets beneath him.

“But first,” Duncan whispers roughly against his ear, “I’m going to fuck you while he watches.”

“Fuck,” Will moans, just as Duncan finally pushes inside. Groaning at the pressure, he lets out a shuddering breath when Duncan finally bottoms out inside him, getting used to the feeling before he uses a hand to squeeze Duncan’s arm in encouragement.

There’s a whisper of a kiss on Will’s nape – a soft warning – before Duncan starts fucking into him at an unforgiving pace, the movements jarring on his recovering body. Duncan, seemingly sensing this, pauses to shift Will to lean against him and winds his arms around Will’s chest and waist to support him fully. In a grasp for stability, Will holds on to Duncan’s arm around his waist as the older man resumes his punishing thrusts.

The new position puts less strain on his body, but it also means Will is now forced to look at the way Hannibal is watching him, Hannibal’s gaze intense and searing. Trembling with pleasure and need, he closes his eyes, overcome at the flood of emotions pouring into him.

Duncan’s hand on his chest slides upwards to his neck, and the soft pressure on his throat is enough to make Will open his eyes again, struggling to breathe when Duncan doesn’t let up on his thrusts. It feels good, even if it hurts.

He’s only aware that he’s letting out incoherent moans of pleasure when Duncan shushes him soothingly, the hand on his throat squeezing gently. “That’s it, Will, you’re taking me so well,” Duncan murmurs.

Will lets out a sob at those words, overwhelmed in the best ways, his thoughts going blissfully empty as Duncan takes and takes. When Hannibal moves in for a kiss, Will pulls the man closer and plants his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders for support. His mind flashes to the moment where he has done the same at the edge of the bluffs before he had pulled them both over the cliffs, and he has to take a moment to center himself, to swallow the lump in his throat at the emotions welling up in him.

It seems he’s not alone in his recollections from the way Hannibal is gazing at him, as reverent as he had been looking at him the night they had slain the Dragon.

Will lets out a frustrated sound when Duncan suddenly stills inside him, and he cranes his neck to look at the other man with an inquiring gaze.

Duncan is breathing hard with the exertion, his eyes on Will. “Do you want both of us inside you, Will?”

The arousal slamming into him is immediate and absolute, and Will doesn’t hesitate before he’s nodding with need. “Please, yes,” he moans, hands tight on Hannibal’s shoulders as he turns to the other man. “Hannibal, please.”

Hannibal’s throat works with emotions, though it doesn’t take him long to position himself closer to Will, his desire palpable as he coats his fingers with lubricant. When Hannibal’s fingers tease at his stretched rim, it’s all he can do to bite back the groan at the back of his throat. The weight of Hannibal’s eyes, intense and overtaken with desire, lays heavy on him though he can’t bring himself to look away.

It takes a while for Will to adjust to the feeling of being stretched open again, with Duncan inside him and Hannibal’s fingers insistently opening him up. His eyes flutter shut from the sensations, the squelching sounds of Hannibal stretching him open sounding obscene in the relative silence.

When Hannibal finally lines himself against him, Will manages a huff of panicked laughter. “I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

Hannibal leans his forehead against Will’s, his eyes searching. “Do you trust me?” The words are soft and searching.

Will swallows down his nervousness, nodding, not trusting himself to speak.

“Hold on to me, Will.”

Hannibal breaches him then, drawing out whimpers out of him as Hannibal fills him up slowly. He focuses on the feel of Hannibal’s skin beneath his fingertips as he grips the man harder, groaning when Hannibal sits flush inside him, the three of them gasping and groaning from the effort.

The sound of their breathing is all that Will can hear now, his eyes fluttering closed at feeling so full. He can barely believe that both of them fit inside him, his body parting so greedily for both men. He shudders when a movement from one of them jostles their bodies together, and he lets out an involuntary whine at the stretch. “Stay with me, Will.”

Will, his eyes still closed, huffs out a laugh, the action drawing out another gasp out of him when his body clenches around the two men.

“Where else would I go?” Will asks breathlessly.

“You have everywhere to go, Will,” Hannibal says, and Will could hear the smile in his voice. “But stay with me. With us.”

Will groans. “How are you still talking,” he whines. “God, just fuck me, please.”

Hannibal chuckles while Duncan huffs behind him.

“Be careful what you ask for, darling,” Duncan warns him, voice gruff and warm.

Trapped as he is between the two of them, Will has no choice but to clutch onto Hannibal when they finally, finally start to move. The thrusts start off slow as Duncan and Hannibal seek out a rhythm that would suit them, both of them watching Will’s reactions with each movement. The stretch begins to feel bearable, and after a few minutes of both men moving inside him, he begins to feel pleasure tingling up his spine.

“Oh god, yes. Please move,” he whimpers, and that’s all the cue that Duncan and Hannibal had apparently needed before they start to move faster.

Gone are the careful movements, then; the two men move as one, their cocks filling Will up so wonderfully with how huge they feel inside him, brushing against his prostate with every other thrust. Will slowly loses his mind as they fuck him with a kind of single-minded drive, all three of them lost to the pleasure.

At one point, while Will is still stuck in a haze of pleasure, the two men paused their movements to shift their positions. Hannibal leans against the headboard with his back propped up on the pillows before pulling Will towards him for a kiss, and Will settles himself against Hannibal. Duncan follows him close behind, plastering himself against Will’s back before he resumes his thrusts.

With Hannibal underneath him and Duncan plastered against his back, he feels smothered in the best ways, caged between the two beasts he has tamed. Hannibal watches his face as he’s taken, looking enraptured, his grip tight on Will’s waist. Duncan places his hands on Will’s flanks, pinning Will in place as he’s fucked hard and fast. Will shudders at the feel of four hands on him, their sweat-soaked bodies sliding against one another with every movement, the slap of skin on skin and their moans and grunts the only sound Will hears for a while.

There’s no finesse to their movements. Duncan drives himself over and over again into Will while Hannibal thrusts inside him with shallow thrusts, their paces making Will moan with desperate need. His own cock is trapped between his and Hannibal’s body, precum trailing off from the tip from the pleasure.

“Oh god, please, please,” Will whimpers, the heat pooling low in his belly as the pleasure crescendos with every thrust to his prostate, the two men tormenting him with it. “Ah— I’m close, please—”

“Will,” Hannibal murmurs, pulling Will closer to rest their foreheads together.

The eye contact feels too much, too close, and he shuts his eyes, overwhelmed. Will’s body is trembling uncontrollably, though his grip on Hannibal’s shoulders remains steadfast, even when he feels like he’s slipping away. Duncan’s pace hasn’t slowed down in the least, and it’s all he can do to hold on to the other man acting as his anchor.

He hears Hannibal’s voice calling his name again, and this time the man’s palm rests against his nape, a warning and an assurance at once.

“Will,” Hannibal repeats softly, his breath harsh on Will’s skin. “Look at me.”

Overwhelmed though he is, he obeys. No sooner does he open his eyes than Hannibal’s emotions slam into him – the adoration, the awe, the fondness, and above all, the love that Hannibal has for him pouring into him at the eye contact.

Will whimpers, unable to look away.

“That’s it, Will,” Hannibal grunts, thrusting into Will as he holds him close. “Stay with us.”

“You’re taking us so well,” Duncan growls against his ear, thrusting in as deep as he can go.

Will whines; he’s so, so close to relief, and his desperation bleeds into his voice, his words coming out as incoherent babbling as he begs for release.

“You can come just like this, can’t you, with the two of us inside you?” Duncan whispers, hot and heavy. 

Even as occupied as he is, Hannibal’s eyes sharpen with curiosity, and he murmurs against Will’s lips, “Come for me, Will.”

The inherent command in those words finally tips him over, his body clenching around the two of them as he comes with Hannibal’s name on his lips. Hannibal, never one to miss an opportunity, pulls him for another kiss, devouring Will’s moans of relief.

Will whimpers when the two men thrust into him with renewed vigor, both of them chasing their own pleasure inside him while Will lays insensate in between them. The thought of them using his body for their own pleasure sends shivers down his spine, the tremors making his body clench around them again.

He hears Hannibal’s groan and Duncan’s curse under his breath at that, and Hannibal finally spills himself inside Will, Duncan following him soon after. As both men find their release in him, Will lays his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, still working through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He can feel the trickle of the men’s combined seed dripping onto his skin, and he closes his eyes close in contentment.

There’s something satisfying at the thought of having been claimed by these two men, both beasts in their own right, though of a different nature. Ensnared in between Duncan and Hannibal, he feels at peace at the knowledge that they are equally trapped here with him.

With that thought, Will lets himself slowly drift into sleep.

Will wakes the next morning feeling sore, with only one warm body greeting him.

“Good morning,” Hannibal murmurs with a smile. He’s sat up against the headboard, watching Will’s reaction as he comes to, his eyes twinkling with mirth and satisfaction as he surveys Will’s naked figure.

Groaning, Will stretches, trying to find relief for his aching joints before he resettles himself against Hannibal, who’s looking at him fondly. He allows the kiss that Hannibal seeks from him, something fluttering inside him at the thought that they can finally have this. Not even their morning breaths could deter them from one another, it seems, though they eventually pull away after some minutes.

“Duncan?” Will asks, looking around for any telltale signs of the other man.

“Out for a smoke and a walk with the dogs,” Hannibal says.

Will looks around, then, realizing that it’s late in the morning when he sees the sunlight filtering through the curtains. “God, what time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven,” Hannibal says, confirming Will’s suspicion that he’s almost slept the morning through. “You were tired; we thought you deserved a sleep-in after the night you’ve had.”

 _We_. Pleasure unfurls at the sound of the word, and Will rewards Hannibal with another kiss. He’s content to not let it go any further, though Hannibal seems to have other ideas in mind when he brings their bodies closer together to rut against him.

Huffing when he feels Hannibal’s erection against his hips, Will pulls away with a grin. “Eager, are we?”

“Making up for lost time,” Hannibal replies, almost teasing.

“God,” Will groans, his own cock thickening at the way Hannibal is rutting against him, suggestive and provocative. “I’m still sore. Do you want my hands...?”

“Would you like to have your turn, instead?”

He gives a sharp exhale at the suggestion, though the momentary loss of words is quickly replaced with mounting excitement. “Yeah,” he rasps. “I’d like that.”

Hannibal’s smile is wide now, entirely pleased. Wasting no time, he grabs the lubricant bottle from the bedside table (conveniently placed for easy retrieval, Will notes with some amusement) and tosses it to Will. Hannibal discards the robe he was wearing carelessly before he slides closer to Will, clearly eager.

While he has been on the receiving end many times during his time with Duncan, he has also had some experiences with the reverse, Duncan always encouraging him to “broaden their horizons” when it comes to their sexual exploration with each other. He does wonder, then, why his hands are shaking when he fumbles with the lubricant bottle. He wants to blame it on his recovering body, though he knows that it’s probably nervousness – he’s never done this with _Hannibal_ , and it’s somehow a terrifying thought.

He coats his fingers with the liquid while Hannibal settles himself on his back, watching Will with darkened eyes while he strokes himself with light, teasing touches. Will swallows with some nervousness, but he shakes it off and presses his fingers firmly at Hannibal’s rim, testing the give of the skin. He stares, mesmerized at the way Hannibal’s eyes close in bliss and surrender as Will begins to pry him open – he still can’t quite believe that Hannibal is giving him this.

Will forces himself to stay in the moment and observes the way Hannibal is making soft, encouraging noises when Will curls his fingers just so when he finds his prostate. He finds himself transfixed; Hannibal’s reactions are so _human_ that Will can’t help but be captivated by it. Repeating the motions, he coaxes more sounds out of Hannibal until the other man finally opens his eyes to stare at him.

“Will,” Hannibal breathes out, his chest heaving with exertion, beads of sweat gathering at his forehead. “Inside me, please.”

Groaning, Will obeys and braces himself over Hannibal, lining himself up before slowly pushing in. They’re both holding their breath while Will sinks in slowly into Hannibal, and the suspended moment is only broken when he has pushed in as far as he can go, both of them exhaling and inhaling with shuddered breaths.

“Will,” Hannibal whispers again, looking up at Will in reverence.

He loves the way Hannibal says his name, as if savoring the taste of it on his tongue every time he uses it.

He kisses Hannibal then, chasing his moans when he finally starts to move. Letting himself indulge in the moment, he thrusts in and out of Hannibal slowly, his pace leisurely as he watches Hannibal’s face, discovering just how expressive Hannibal allows himself to be while they’re in bed. He soaks up every emotion crossing the man’s face, greedy for it in a way he has never been before.

It’s not long before Hannibal grows impatient, urging Will on with insistent hands on his flanks and his legs wrapped around Will. Will is, as ever, powerless to resist, his hips snapping faster and faster as they both moan against each other’s skin. His movements begin to falter as he feels his orgasm building up, and he takes Hannibal’s cock in hand, using his hand and his cock to urge Hannibal to his climax.

Hannibal comes with a strained cry, his fingers digging into Will’s skin hard enough to bruise. With Hannibal’s body clenching around him, Will thrusts inside him until his rhythm falters and he reaches his climax, his vision whiting out with pleasure as he buries himself as deep as he can inside Hannibal, marking him in return.

He’s unsure of how long he blacks out, but when he comes to, he’s slumped over Hannibal, the man kissing him with wet, sloppy movements. He regains enough awareness to return the affections, realizing with a jolt that Hannibal’s eyes are wet with tears when they finally pull apart after several minutes.

Hannibal looks so raw and open that it tugs something in Will, his heart aching.

“I’m here,” Will whispers in reassurance, kissing the corners of Hannibal’s eyes and smiling at the way Hannibal’s fingers tighten in his skin. “I’m here, Hannibal. I want to be here.”

He doesn’t expect an answer, Hannibal seemingly too overwrought with emotions. They lay there in silence for a few minutes until the heat becomes unbearable. Will pulls out eventually, and he sighs in satisfaction when he sees the mess he’s made of Hannibal. He’s still tired and sore from the previous night, though he forces himself to his feet and finds his way to Hannibal’s bathroom and cleans himself up briefly before returning to Hannibal with a damp and warm washcloth in his hand.

Wiping down the other man silently, Will avoids eye contact for a while to let Hannibal regain his equilibrium – he knows just how exhausting it is to have yourself be seen, after all. Once he’s done, he places the washcloth on the bedside table, too boneless now to return to the bathroom.

He settles himself next to Hannibal, silently making his space around the other man as he rests his head in the crook of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal accepts the arm strewn around him, and Will closes his eyes, content to let the contemplative silence be while they both gather their thoughts.

A tentative hand settles itself into Will’s curls, and though he startles at it at first, he quickly melts into the touch and pushes himself closer to the other man. Hannibal’s fingers brush through his hair softly, and it’s enough to put him to sleep if he hasn’t slept for hours already.

“Thank you, Will.”

The words are delivered quietly, though the weight behind them is clear.

Will adjusts his position so that he can see Hannibal clearly, both of them staring at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“Thank you,” Will replies after a moment. “For letting me see you.” _A rare gift._

Though Hannibal has regained his composure, there’s still a lingering vulnerability at the way he looks at Will.

“Did you really mean what you said last night?” Will asks after a short silence. “About… sharing. You don’t mind?”

“I admit it was a difficult concept to grasp,” Hannibal replies, “though things became clearer once I’ve talked to Duncan about our… situation. I find the idea of not being able to have you at all a worse outcome in this scenario.”

“I’m sorry,” Will says, and he means it. “I know it’s not in your nature. I know it’s selfish of me. But Duncan has been a part of my life for three years and he’s been… helpful. I couldn’t ask him to leave.”

“That was part of my initial worry. That there would be no space for me in your life.”

Will laughs then, a mirthless sound. “Hannibal, you’ve carved out a space for yourself inside me long before anyone else has been able to.”

Hannibal looks immeasurably pleased at that.

 _You asshole_ , Will thinks fondly.

“You like that, huh?” Will huffs another laugh. “Well, you’re going to have to live with the knowledge that we’re all stuck in this together if I have my way.”

“Will,” Hannibal says, grave and serious. “I would give you anything you want if it means having you here with me.”

There’s nothing he can say in reply to that. He knows now just how much those words ring true. While he knows that Hannibal’s care comes with claws, he also craves that kind of possessiveness, something alighting in him at the thought that they’re so intertwined with one another that nothing will be able to keep them apart.

After everything that’s happened between them, nothing can make him desire for any other outcome than this.

Hannibal leaves him soon after to make them lunch while Will lounges in bed for a few more minutes before he finally goes for a shower. By the time he makes his way to the kitchen, he sees Duncan out at the back porch, smoking while he watches the dogs roaming around the house.

Will gives Hannibal a quick smile, the other man busy with lunch preparations. The kitchen, as always, is Hannibal’s domain, and one that he prefers to participate in only when the mood rouses him to. He leaves Hannibal to it and joins Duncan on the porch, grinning at the way the dogs are playing around the grounds of their house, looking at home already.

“Morning,” Will says, smiling at the man next to him.

“It’s already noon,” Duncan replies, his mouth curled into a smirk.

“It was a tiring night,” Will says with a mild shrug.

The smirk grows wider. “And a tiring morning, too, I bet.”

“Shut up.” Will ignores the blush creeping into his face, and throws a considering look at Duncan. “Are you happy?”

Duncan turns to him with raised brows.

“Here, I mean,” Will clarifies. “Are you happy here, with me? With us.”

The man is silent for a while, his gaze returning to the dogs who are still playing with each other, content to ignore the brooding humans for now.

“I’m as happy as I can be,” Duncan says finally. “Though I can’t say it won’t be an adjustment having to live with an actual cannibal.”

Will snorts, though he softens and grasps Duncan’s hand. “You know I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want, right?”

Duncan stares at their intertwined hands and squeezes. “I know,” he replies, voice gruff. “I can’t promise I won’t try to kill him if he tries anything funny. I’m also getting fucking tired of this weather.”

Bursting into laughter, Will returns the squeeze. “Yeah, I had a feeling you’d miss the winter.” He gives a wistful sigh. “I’d like to return to Montana, one day.”

“Maybe in a few years,” Duncan says, indulging him as always.

Will finds that he does miss Montana a little – the simple life they had in the last three years was something he never thought he would’ve found when he initially set out to run away from Hannibal. As with everything in life, he inevitably finds himself here, back with Hannibal, though life threw him a curveball by having Duncan here by his side. It’s a pleasant surprise, and one he intends to savor while it lasts.

With their fingers loosely clasped together, Will watches his dogs for a while, smiling at their apparent joy and guileless pleasure. A reminder of the sacrifice Hannibal has made for him, to ensure his happiness in their life together.

It’s a different sort of peace, he thinks.

Life can keep on throwing curveballs at him. He’ll be ready for them when it comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s face it, Duncan and Hannibal’s talk probably went something like this:
>
>> H: How do I get him to talk to me again  
> D: Fuck if I know, I’ve never made him mad at me  
> H: That isn’t helpful  
> D: idk when in doubt, just get him more dogs. Seems to work for me  
> H: …I must make a call
> 
> Truthfully I have no idea how long they will survive this fucked up relationship lmao, but I can see them trying to work things out. And yes, I know the whole thing is incredibly sappy and cliche, and I fully embrace it because I need some fluff in my life right now.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I've really appreciated everyone who stuck with this story, especially when it became clear that I kept on adding chapters to it because these three wouldn't shut up lol. I love yall!


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